
Class TSLfiOLit 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



SHENANDOAH 



HDilitarp Comebp in JTour Bets 



BY 



1/ 

BRONSON HOWARD 



Ai^yc 



reay Copyright 1897 by Bronson Howard 

Wanx, 

RIGHT OF PERFORMANCE RESERVED 
The I 
irately 
ignals a. 
ode. \ 






OAST OF OHARAOTERIS 



General Haverii,l, 1 

Colonel Kerchival West, ';.officersof Sheridan's C.v 

Captain Heartsease, 

Frank Bedloe, J 

„ T Ti \ Commander of the IStli 

General Iraneus Buckthorn, - Army Corps 

Sergeant Barket. 

Colonel Kobert Ellingham, 10th Virginian. 

Captain Thornton, Secret Service C. S. A. 

Hardwick, Surgeon. 

Captain, U. S. Signal Corps. 

Corporal Dunn. 

Benson. 

Lieutenant op Infantry. 

Mrs. Haverill. 

Gertrude Ellingham. 

Madeline West, 

Jenny Buckthorn, U. S. A. 

Mrs. Edith Haverill. 

Old Margery. 

Jannette. 



/ 



/ 



( 



COSTUMES. 



Haverill. — Act 1st. Full Evening Dress. — Acts 2nd and 3rd. 
Uniform of Brigadier-General, U. S. Vol., 1864. A^jtive 
Service, rough and war-worn. — Act 4th. Civil Costume, 
Prince Albert, &c. 

Kerchivai. West. — Act 1st. Full Evening Dress. — Acts 2nd 
and 8rd. Uniform of Colonel of Cavalry, U. S. Vol., 
1864 (with cloak in Act 3rd.) Active Service, rough and 
war-worn. — Act. 4th. Travelling. 

Capt. Heartsease. — Act 2nd. Uniform of Captain of Cavalry, 
1864; as neat and precise as is consistent with Active Ser- 
vice. — Act 4th. Afternoon; Civil. 

Lieut. Frank Bedloe. — Act 2nd. Lieutenant of Cavalry, 1864; 
Active Service. — Act 3rd. Same, disarranged for wound- 
ed man on stretcher. 

Gen. Buckthorn. — Acts 2nd and 3rd. Major Geufral, 1864. 
Active Service. — Act 4th. Citizen; Afternoon. 

Sergeant Barket. — Acts 3nd and 3rd, Sergeant: Cavalry, U. S. 
Vol., 1864. Active Service. — Act 4th. Plain undress 
uniform, sacque or jacket. 

Robert ElliSgham. — Act 1st. Full Evening Dress. —Act 2nd. 
Confederate Colonel: Infantry, 1864. Active Service. 
— Act 4th. Citizen; Afternoon. Prince Albert (Grey). 

Edward Thornton. — Act 1st. Riding, but not present English 
cut. — Act 3nd. First, Confederate Captain of Cavalry. 
Active Service. Second costume, same, in shirt sleeves 
and without hat or cap. 

vv . 

iHardwick. — Uniform of Confederate Surgeon, 1864. Active 

I f^ Service, 

great 

G^mn< ^RPORAL Dunn.— Uniform of rank, Cavalry, U. S. Vol., 1864. 

The Cava Active Service, 
curately as piv 

Signals are also''^'^^^^^'^ °^ "^"^^ Corporal, Cavalry, U. S. Vol., 1864. 
Code, ve Service. 



Lieut, op Infantry.— Uniform of rank, U. S. Vol., 1864. Ac- 
tive Service. 

Mrs. Haverill. — Act 1st. Full evening ball dress. — Act 4th. 
Mourning, but not too deep. 

Gertrude Elltngham. — Act 1st. Riding habit. — Act 2d. 1st 
costume, afternoon at home; simple enough for the South 
during war. 3nd costume, picturesque and not conven- 
tional dress and hat for riding. — Act 3rd. 1st costume 
of Act 2nd, or similar. — Act 4th. Neat travelling cos- 
tume. 

Madeline West. — Act 1st. Full evening ball dress. — Act 2nd. 
Pretty afternoon costume. — Act 3rd. Same or walking. 
— Act 4th. Afternoon costume at home. 

Jenny Buckthorn. — Act 2nd. Pretty afternoon costume, with 
military cut trimmings and general air. — Act 3rd. Same. 
— Act 4th. Afternoon costume at home. 

Mrs. Edith Haverill. —Young widow's costume. 
Old Margery. — Neat old family servant. 
J ANNETTE. — Young servant. 



1 



/ 



POR PROGRAMME. 



In ACT I, just before the opening of the war, Haverill is a 
Colonel in the Regular Army. Kerciiivai. West and Robert 
ElTjINgham are Lieutenants in his regiment, having been class- 
mates at West Point, 



ACT I. 
Charleston Harbor in 1861. After the Ball, 

The citizens of Charleston knew almost the exact hour at which 
the attack on Fort Sumpter would begin, and they gathered in the 
gray twilight of the morning to view the bombardment as a 
spectacle. — Nicolay, Campaigns of the Civil War, Vol. I 

'•'I shall open fire in one hour." — Beauregard's last message to 
Major Anderson. Sent at 3.20 ^. M.. April 12, 1861. 



ACTS II & III. 

The Union Army, under General Sheridan, and the Confederate 
Army, under General Early, were encamped facing each other 
about twenty miles south of Winchester, on Cedar Creek. * * * 
Gen. Sheridan was called to Washington. Soon after he left, a 
startling despatch was taken by our own Signal Officers from the 
Confederate Signal Station on Three Top Mountain. — Pond, 
Camp. Civ. War., Vol. XL 

On the morning of Oct. 19th, the Union Army was taken com- 
pletely by surprise. Thoburn's position was swept in an instant. 
Gordon burst suddenly upon the left Hank. The men who es- 
caped capture streamed through the camps along the road to Win- 
chester. — Pond, supra. 

Far away in the rear was heard cheer after cheer. — Three years 
in the Sixth Corps. 



ACT IV. 

Washington, 1865. Residence op General Buckthorn. 

I feel that we are on the eve of a new era, when there is to be 
great harmony between the Federal and Confederate. — Oen. 
OranVs Memoirs. 

The Cavalry Trumpet Signals in Acts II and III are given ac- 
curately as provided in the U. S. Cavalry Tactics. The Torch 
Signals are also strictly correct, in accordance with the Service 
Code. 



OECHESTRA MUSIC. 



ACT I. 

Eise of curtain. — ' ' Dixie. " 

Pall of curtain. — " When this Cruel War is Over." 



ACT II. 

Rise of curtain. — Military strain, with suggestion of cavalry 
trumpet calls, the orchestra to stop as curtain rises, and 
bugles on the stage continuing. 

Fall of curtain. — No music. 



ACT III. 

Rise of curtain. — Same as at Act II. 

Fall of curtain. — "John Brown," beginning at the passage 
" Glory, Glory, Hallelujah! " Very strong. 



ACT IV. 

Rise of curtain — Same as fall of Act I. 

Fall of curtain. — " Johnnie Comes Marching Home," beginning of 
the refrain. Sudden and strong. 



SHE isr^N DO A.H: . 



ACT I. 

Charleston Harboh in 1861. "After the Ball." 

SCENE. — A Southern Residence on the shore of Charleston Har- 
bor. Interior. — Large double doors up c, open. Large., wide 
toindow, with low sill, extending down r. c. and R. Veranda 
beyond the doors c, and extending down R. beyond leindow. 
A wide opening upL,. c , with corridor beyond, d. down l. r. E. 
Furniture and appointments quaint and old-fas7noned, but an 
air of brightness and of light; the general tone of the walls 
and upholstery that of the old Colonial period in its more orna- 
' mental and decorative p/iase., as shown in the early days of 
Charleston. Old candlesticks and candelabra, with lighted 
candles nearly burned down. Beyond the central doors and 
the window r. c. there is a lawn, with southern foliage, extend- 
ing down to the shores of the harbor; a part of the bay lies in 
the distance, with lotc-lying land beyond. The lights of Charles- 
ton are seen over the water along the shore up c. Moonlight. 
The gray twilight of early morning gradually steals over the 
scene as the Act progresses. 

DISCOVERED. — As the curtain rises, Kerchival West is sitting 
in a chair, L. c, his feet extended and his heoA thrown bach, a 
handkerchief pver his face. Robert YiiAA'&CYi.k.^i strolls in on 
veranda, r., beyond window, smoking. He looks r., starts and 
moves to window; leans against the upper side of the window 
and looks across. 

Elling. Kerchival ! 

Kerchival. {Under handkerchief .) Eh? H'm! 

Elling. Can you sleep at a time like this? My own nerves 
are on fire 

Ker. Fire? Oh — yes — I remember. Any more fireworks, 
Bob? 

Elling. A signal rocket from one of the batteries, now and 
then. {Goes up beyond windoic. Ker. arouses himself, taking 
handkerchief from his eyes.) 

Ker. What a preposterous hour to be up. The ball was over 
an hour ago, all the guests are gone, and it's nearly four o'clock. 
{Looks at his watch.) Exactly ten minutes of four. {Ihkes out a 
cigar.) Our Southern friends assure us that General Beauregard 
is to open fire on Fort Sumpter this morning. I don't believe it. 
{Lighting cigar and rising, X.'sr. c. and looks out through window.) 
There lies the old fort — solemn and grim as ever, and the flag- 
staff stands above it, like a warning finger. If they do fire upon 



8 SHENANDOAH. 

it — (shutting his teeth for a moment and looking down at the cigar 
in his hand) — the echo of that first shot will be heard above their 
graves, and Heaven knows how many of our own, also; but the 
flag will still float ! — over the graves of both sides. 

[Ellingham enters up c. and comes doton l. o.] 

Are you Southerners all mad, Robert V 

Elling. Are you Northeners all blind? (Kebch. sits R. c.) 
We Virginians would prevent a war if we could. But your 
people in the North do not believe that one is coming. You do not 
understand the determined frenzy of my fellow Southerners. 
Look ! [Pointing vp c.) Do you see the lights of the city, over 
the water? The inhabitants of Charleston are gathering, even 
now, in the gray, morning twilight, to witness the long-promised 
bombardment of Fort Sumpter. It is to be a gala day for them. 
They have talked and dreamed of nothing else for weeks. The 
preparations have become a part of their social life — of their amuse- 
ment — their gayeties. This very night at the ball — here — in the 
house of my own relatives — what was their talk ? What were the 
jests they laughed at? Sumpter! War! Ladies were betting 
bonbons that the United States would not dare to fire a shot in 
return, and pinning ribbons on the breasts of their "heroes." 
There was a signal rocket from one of the forts, and the young 
men who were dancing here left their partners standing on the 
floor to return to the batteries*— as if it were the night before an- 
other Waterloo. The ladies themselves hurried away to watch 
the "spectacle" from their own verandas. You won't see the 
truth ! I tell you, Kerchival, a war between the North and South 
is inevitable! 

Ker. And if it does come, you Virginians will join the rest. 

Elling. Our State will be the battle ground, I fear. But 
every loyal son of Virginia will follow her flag. It is our religion ! 

Kek. My State is New York. If New York should go against 
the old flag, New York might go to the devil. That is my 
religion ! 

Elling. So differently have we been taught what the word 
"patriotism " means ! 

Ker. You and I are officers in the same regiment of the 
United States Regular Army, Robert; we were classmates at West 
Point, and we have fought side by side on the plains. You saved 
my scalp once; I'd have to wear a wig, now, if you hadn't. I say, 
old boy, are we to be enemies ? 

Elling. {Laying his hand over his shoulder. ) My dear old com- 
rade, whatever else comes, our friendship shall be unbroken! 

Ker. Bob ! {Looking up at him.) I only hope that we shall 
never meet in battle! 

Elling. In battle? {Stepping down front.) The idea is hor- 
rible I 

Ker. (Rising and crossing to him.) My dear old comrade, one of 
us will be wrong in this great fight, but we shall both be honest 
in it. (Oives hand, Ellingham grasps it warmly., then turns 
away.) 



SHENANDOAH. 9 

Elling. {Looking up K.) Colonel Haverhill is watching the 
forts, also; he has been as sad to-night as we have. {X.'s l.) 
Next to leaving you, my greatest regret is that I must resign 
from his regiment. 

Keb. You are his favorite officer. 

Ei-LiNG. Naturally, perhaps; he was my guardian. {Walking 
down L.) 

[Enter Haverill up c. He -walks down, stopping c] 

Haverill. Kerchival ! I secured the necessary passports to 
the North yesterday afternoon; this one is yours; I brought it 
down for you early in the evening. (Kerch, takes paper. Goes 
to window.) I am ordered direct to Washington at once, and 
shall start with Mrs. Haverill this forenoon. You will report to 
Capt. Lyon, of the 2d Kegiment, in St. Louis. Robert ! 1 have 
hoped for peace to the last, but it is hoping against hope. I feel 
certain, now, that the fatal blow will be struck this morning. 
Our old regiment is already broken up, and you, also, will now 
resign, I suppose, like nearly all your fellow Southerners in the 
service. 

Elling. You know how sorry I am to leave your command, 
Colonel ! 

Haver. I served under your father in Mexico; he left me, at 
his death, the guardian of you and your sister Gertrude. Even 
since you became of age, I have felt that I stood in his place. 
But you must be your sister's only guardian now. Your father 
fell in battle, fighting for our common country, but you 

Elling. He would have done as I shall do, had he lived. He 
was a Virginian ! 

Haver. (X l.) I am glad, Eobert, that he was never called 
upon to decide between two flags. He never knew but one, and 
we fought under it together. [Exit l. i. e. 

Elling. Kerchival ! Something occurred in this house to- 
night which — which I shouldn't mention under ordinary circum- 
stances, but I — I feel that it may require my further attention, 
and you, perhaps, can be of service to me. Mrs. Haverill, the 
wife of the Colonel 

Kerch. Faint«d away in her room. 

Elling. You know? 

Kerch. I was one of the actors in the little drama. 

Elling. Indeed! 

Ker. About half-past nine this evening, while the ladies 
were dressing for the ball, I was going upstairs; I heard a quick, 
sharp cry, sprang forward, found myself at an open door. Mrs. 
Haverhill lay on the floor inside, as if she had just reached the 
door to cry for help, when she fell. After doing all the unneces- 
sary and useless things I coiuld think of, I rushed out of the room 
to tell your sister, Gertrude, and my own sister, Madeline, to go 
and take care of the lady. Within less than twenty minutes af- 
terwards, I saw Mrs. Haverhill sail into the drawingr-room, a 
thing of beauty, and with the glow of perfect health on her 
cheek. It was an immense relief to me when I saw her. Up to 



10 SHENANDOAH. 

that time I had a vague idea that I had committed a murder. 

Er,LiNG. Murder! 

Ker. M— m. A guilty conscience. Every man, of course, 
does exactly the wrong thing when a woman faints. When I 
rushed out of Mrs. Haverhill's room, I left my handkerchief 
soaked with water upon her face. I must ask her for it, it's a 
silk one. Luckily, the girls got there in time to take it off ; she 
wouldn't have come to if they liadn't. It never occurred to me 
that she'd need to breathe in my absence. That's all I knotv 
about the matter. What troubles you ? I suppose every woman 
has a right to faint whenever she chooses. The scream that I 
heard was so sharp, quick and intense that 

Elijng. That the cause must have been a serious one. 

Ker. Yes! So I thought. It must have been a mouse. 

Elling. Mr. Edward Thornton has occupied the next room to 
that of Mrs. Haverhill to night. 

Ker. (X. c. quickly.) What do you mean? 

Elling. During the past month or more, he has been 
pressing, not to say insolent, in his attentions to Mrs. Haverhill. 

Ker. I've noticed that myself. 

Elling. {X. c). And he is an utterly unscrupulotis man ; it is 
no fault of mine that he was asked to be a guest at this house to- 
night. He came to Charleston, some years ago, from the North, 
but if there are any vices and passions peculiarly strong in the 
South, he has carried them all to the extreme. In one of the 
many scandals connected with Edward Thornton's name, it was 
more than whispered that he entered a lady's room unexpectedly 
at night. But, as he killed the lady's husband in a duel a few 
days afterwards, the scandal dropped. {K. L.) 

Ker. Of course; the gentleman received ample satisfaction 
as an outraged husband, and Mr. Thornton apologized, I sup- 
pose, to his widow. 

Elling. He has repeated the adventure. 

Ker. Do — you — think — that? 

Elling. I was smoking on the lawn, and glanced up at the 
window ; my eyes may have deceived me, and I must move cau- 
tiouply in the matter ; but it couldn't have been imagination ; 
the shadow of Edward Thornton's face and head appeared upon 
the curtain. 

Ker. Whew ! The devil ! 

Elling. Just at that moment I, too, heard the stifled scream. 

[Enter Edward Thornton, l. 1 e.] 

Thornton, Gentlemen ! 

Elling. Your name was just on my tongue, Mr. Thornton. 

Thornton. I thought I heard it, but you are welcome to it. 
Miss Gertrude has asked me to ride over to Mrs. Pinckney's with 
her, to learn if there is any further news from the I atteries. I 
am very glad the time to attack Fort Sumpter has come at last ! 

Elling. I do not share your pleasure. 

Thornton. You are a Southern gentleman. 

Elling. And you are a Northern "gentleman." 



SHENANDOAH. 11 

Thokntox. a Southerner by choice ; I shall join the cause. 

Elmng. VVe native Southerners will defend our own rights^ 
sir ; you may leave them in our keeping. It is my wish, Mr. 
Thornton, that you do not accompany my sister. 

Thornton. Indeed ! 

Billing. Her groom, alone, will be sufficient. 

Thornton As you please, sir. Kindly offer my excuses to 
Miss Gertrude. You and I can chat over the subject later in the 
day, when we are alone. (Moving ttp stage.) 

Elling. By all means, and another subject, also, perhaps. 

Thornton. I shall be entirely at your service. 

[B/xit c. and dotcn R. on veranda. 

Eli.ing. Kerchival, I shall learn the vvhole truth, if pos- 
sible, to-day. If it is what I suspect — what I almost know — I will 
settle with him myself. He has insulted our Colonel's wife and 
outraged the hospitality of my friends. ( Walking R.) 

Ker. ( Walking l.) By Jove ! I think it ought to be my quar- 
rel. "I'm sure I'm mixed up in it enough. 

Madeline ( Without., down l., calling.) Kerchival ! 

Er.i.iNG. Madeline! {Aside., starting, Kkrcuiya'l looks across 
at him sharply.) 

Ker. {Aside.) I distinctly saw Bob give a start when he 
heard Madeline. Now, what can there be about my sister's voice 
to make a man jump like that ? 

Gert. {Withoht, up L.) Brother Robert ! 

Ker. Gertrude ! {Aside, starting, Ellingham looks at him 
sluirply.) How the tones of a woman's voice thrill through a 
man's soul ! 

[Enter Madeline, l. 1 e.] 

Madeline. Oh, Kerchival — here you are. 
{Enter Gertrude, up l. c. from apartment, in a riding liahit, 
with ichiji, etc.] 

Gert. Robert, dear! {Coming down across c. to Robert; theg 
converse in dumb slioir.) 

Madeline. Where are your field glasses? I've been rum- 
maging all through your clothes, and swords, and sashes, and. 
things. I've turned everything in your room upside down. 

Ker. Have you ? 

M.\deline. I can't find your glasses anywhere. I want to 
look at the forts. Another rocket went up just now. {Runs V]) 
C. and stands on, piazza looking off R ) 

Keu. a sister has all the privileges of a wife to upset a 
man's things, without her legal obligation to put them gtraight 
again. {Glances at Gert.) I wish Bob's sister had the same priv- 
ileges in my room that my own has. 

Gert. Mr. Thornton isn't going with me, you say? 

Elling. He requested me to offer you his apologies. 

Ker. May /accompany you ? (Ei.ling. turns to irindoWR.) 

Gert. My groom, old Pete, will be with me, of course; there's 
no particular need of anyone else. But you may go along, if you 
like. I ve got my hands full of sugar plums for Jack. Dear old 



12 SHENANDOAH. 

Jack — he always has his share when we have company. I'm 
going over to Mrs. Pinckney's to see if she's had any more news 
from General Beauregard ; her son is on the General's staff. 

Madeline {Looking off k.) There's another rocket from Fort 
Johnson ; and it is answered from Fort Moultrie. Ah ! {An- 
grily.) General Beauregard is a bad, wicked man! {Coming doion.) 

Gert. Oh ! Madeline ! You are a bad, wicked Northern girl 
to say such a thing ! 

Mad. I am a Northern girl. 

Gert. And I am a Southern girl. {They face each other.) 

Kek. The war has begun. {Dropping into chaU\ r.. Elling. 
Jias turned from window; he stroUtt across l., watching the girls.) 

Gert. General Beauregard is a patriot. 

Mad. He is a Rebel ! 

Gert. So am I. 

Mad. Gertrude ! — You — you 

Gert. Madeline ! — You 

Madeline. I — I 

Gert. I 

Both. — 0-h ! {Bursting into tears and rushing into each 
other's arms, sobbing, then suddenly kissing each other vigorously.) 

Ker. I say, Bob, if the North and South do fight, that will 
be the end of it 

Gert. I've got something to say to you, Madeline, dear. 
{Confidentially and turning R. with her arms about her tcaist. The 
girls sit R. c. talking earnestly.) 

Elling. Kerchival, old boy ! There's — there's something I'd 
like to say to you before we part to-day. 

Ker. I'd like a word with you, also ! 

Mad. Yf^u don't really mean that, Gertrude — with me? 

EtiLiNG. I'm in love with your sister, Madeline. 

Ker. The devil you are ! 

Elling. I never suspected such a thing until last night. 

Gert. Robert was in love with you six weeks ago. (Made- 
liiNE kisses her.) 

Ker. I've made a discovery, too. Bob. 

Mad. I've got something to say to yoa, Gertrude. 

Ker. I'm in love with your sister. 

Elling. {Astonished.) You are? 

Mad. Kerchival has been in love with you for the last three 
months. (Gert. offei'S her lips— they kiss). 

Ker. I fell in love with her the day before yesterday. {The 
two gentlemen grasp each other's hand warmly.) 

Elling. VVe understand each other, Kerchival. {He turns up 
C, stops at door.) Miss Madeline, you said just now that you 
wished to watch the forts. Would you like to walk down to the 
shore ? 

Madeline. Yes ! {Rising and going up to him. He takes one 
of her hands in his own and looks at her earnestly.) 

Elling. This will be the last day that we shall be together, 
for the present. But we shall meet again — some time — if we both 
live. 



SHENANDOAH. 13 

Mad. If we both live! You mean — if you Vive. You must 
go iuto this dreadful war, if it comes. 

Elling. Yes, Madeline, I must. Come let us watch for our 
fate. [Exeunt c. d. and on veranda R. 

l^KH. {Aside.) I must leave Charleston to-day. {Sighs.) Does 
she love me? 

Geb. I am ready to start, Mr. West, when you are. 

Ker. Oh ! Of course, I forgot. {Rising ) I shall be delighted 
to ride at your side. 

Gert. At my side ! (Rising.) There isn't a horse in America 
that can keep by the side of my Jack, when 1 give him his head, 
and I'm sure to do it. You may follow us. Bat you can hardly 
ride iu that costum-^; while you are changing it, I'll give Jack his 
bonbons. {Taming to windoio R.) There he is, bless him ! Paw- 
ing the ground, and impatient for me to be on his back. Let him 
come, Pete. {Holding up bonbons at window.) I love you. 

Ker. Eh? (2\irning suddenly.) 

Gert. ( Looking at him.) What ? 

Ker. You were saying 

Gert. Jack! {Looking out. The head of a large black horse 
appears through the mndow.) You dear old fellow ! {Feeds with 
bonbons ) Jack has been my boy ever since he was a little colt. 
I brought you up, didn't I, Jack ? He's the truest, and kindest, 
and best of friends; I wouldn't be parted from him for the world, 
and I'm the only woman he'll allow to be near him. 

Ker. {Earnestly.) You are the only woman. Miss Gertrude, 
that I 

Gert. Dear Jack! 

Ker {Aside.) Jack embarrasses me. He's a third party. 

Gekt. There! That will do for the present, Jack. Now go 
along with Pete! If you are a very good boy, and you don't let 
Lieutenant Kerchival West come within a quarter of a mile of me, 
after the first three minutes, you shall have some more sugar 
plums when we get to Mrs. Pinckney's. {An old negro leads the 
horse away. Gert. looks around at Ker. ) You haven't gone to 
dress yet; we shall be late. Mrs. Pinckney asked a party of 
friends to witness the bombardment this morning, and breakfast 
together on the piazza while they are looking at it. We can re- 
main and join them, if you like. 

Ker. I hope they won't wait for breakfast until the bombard- 
ment begins. 

(tert. I'll bet you an embroidered cigar-case, Lieutenant, against 
a bos of gloves that it will begin in less than an hour. 

Ker. Done! You will lose the bet. But you shall have the 

gloves; and one of the hands that go inside them shall be 

{Taking one of her hands; she withdraws it.) 

Gert. My own — until some one wins it You don't believe 
that General Beauregard Will open fire on Fort Sumpter this 
morning? 

Ker. No; I don't. 

Gert. Everything is ready. 

Ker. It's so much easier to get everything ready to do a thing 



14 SHENANDOAH. 

than it is to do it. I have been ready a dozen times, this very 
night, to say to you, Miss (iertrude, tliat I — that I {Palmes.) 

(jErt. {fjooking down and tapping skirt with her whip.) Well? 

Ker. But I didn't. 

Gert. {Glancing up at 7iim suddenly .) I dare say. General Beau- 
regard has more nerve than you have. 

Ker. It is easy enough to set the batteries around Charleston 
Harbor, but the man who fires the first shot at a woman 

Gert. Woman! 

Ker. At the Amt-rican Hag — must have nerves of steel. 

Geet. You Northern men are so slow, to 

Ker. I have been slow; but I assure you. Miss Gertrude, that 
my heart 

Gert. What subject are we on now ? 

Ker. You were complaining because I was too slow. 

Gert. I was doing nothing of the kind, sir! — let me finish, 
please. You Northern men are so slow, to believe that our 
Southern heroes — Northern men and Southern heroes — you recog- 
nize the distinction I make — you won't believe that they will keep 
their promises. They have sworn to attack Fort Sumpter this 
morning, and — they — will do it. This "American Flag" you 
talk of is no longer our flag ; it is foreign to us ! — It is the flag of 
an enemy ! 

Ker. {Tenderly and earnestly.) Am I your enemy? 

Gert. You have told me that you will return to the North, 
.and take the field. 

Ker. Yes, I Avill. {Decisively.) 

Gert. You will be fighting against my friends, against my 
■own brother, against me. We sJiall be enemies. 

Ker. {Firmly.) Even that, Gertrude — {She looks around at 
him, he looks squarely into her ei^es as he proceeds) — if you will 
have it so. If my country needs my services, I shall not refuse 
them, though it makes us enemies ! {She waver s a moment, under 
strong emotion, and turns away, sinks upon the seat l., her elbow 
on the hack of it, and her tightly -clenched fist against her cheek, 
looking away from him. ) 

Gkrt. I will have it so ! I am a Southern woman ! 

Ker. We have more at stake between us, this morning, than 
a cigar case and a box of gloves. {Turning up stage.) 

{Enter Mrs. Haverhill up l. c, from apartment.) 

Mrs. H. Mr. West ! I've been looking for you. I have a 
favor to ask. 

Ker. Of me ? — with pleasure. 

Mrs. H. But I am sorry to have interrupted you and Gertrude. 
{Passing down R., Ker. moves up c, Gert. rises.) {Apart.) 
There are tears in your eyes, Gertrude, dear ! 

Gert. {Apart ) They have no right there. 

Mrs. H. (Apart.) I'm afraid I know what has happened. A 
quarrel ! and you are to part with each other so soon. Do not let 
a girl's coquetry trifle with her heart until it is too late. You 
remember the confession you made to me last night? 



SHENANDOAH. 15 

Gert. {Apart.) Constance! (Starting.) That is my secret; 
more a secret now tlian ever. 

Mrs, H. {A2)art.) Yes, dear ; but you do love Lim. (Ger- 
trude moves np c.) 

Gert. You need not ride over with me, Mr. West. 

Ker. I can be ready in one moment. 

Gert. I choose to go alone ! Old Pete will be with me ; and 
Jack, himself, is a charming companion. 

Ker. If you prefer Jack's company to mine 

Gert. I "do. [ Exit c. on veranda and down R. 

Ker. Damn Jack! But you will let me assist you to mount. 

{Exit after her. 
' Mrs. H. We leave for the North before noon, but every hour 
seems a month. If my husband should learn what happened in 
my room to night, he would kill that man. What encouragement 
could I have given him? Innocence is never on its guard — but, 
(Drawing up.) the last I remember before I fell unconscious, he 
was crouching before me like a whipped cur! {Starts as she looks 
out of the window.) There is Mr. Thornton, now -Ah! (Angrily.) 
No — I must control my own indignation. I must keep him and 
Colonel Haveriil from meeting before we leave Charleston. Ed- 
ward Thornton would shoot my husband down without remorse. 
But poor Frank! I must not forget him, in my own trouble. I 
have but little time left to care for his wellfare. 

[Re-enter Kerciiivai., c] 

Ker. You said I could do you a favor, Mrs. Haveriil? 

Mrs. H. Yes, I wanted to speak with you about General Hav- 
erill's son, Frank. I should like you to carry a message to C'harles- 
ton for me, as soon as it is light. It is a sad errand. You know 
too well the great misfortune that has fallen upon my husband in 
New York. 

Ker. His only son has brought disgrace upon his family name, 
and tarnished the reputation of a proud soldier. Colonel Hav- 
erill's fellow officers sympathize with him most deeply. 

Mrs. H. And poor young Frank! I could hardly have loved 
the boy more if he had been my own son. If he had not him- 
self confessed the crime against the bank, I could not have be- 
lieved him guilty. He has escaped from arrest. He is in the City 
of Charleston. I am the only one in all the world he could turn 
to. He was only a lad of fourteen when his father and I were 
married, sis years ago; and the boy has loved me from the first. 
His father is stern and bitter now in his humiliation. This note 
from Frank was handed to me while the company were here last 
evening. I want you to find him and arrange for me to meet him, 
if you can do it with safety. I shall give you a letter for him. 

Ker. I'll get ready at once; and I will do all I can for the boy. 
(Turning up l. c.) 

Mrs. H. And— Mr. West! Gertrude and Madeline have told 
me that — that — I was under obligations to you last evening. 

Ker. Don't mention it. I merely ran for them, and I — I'm 
very glad you didn't choke — before they reached you. I trust 



16 SHENANDOAH. 

you are quite well now? 

Mrs. H. I am entirely recovered, thank you. And I will ask 
another favor of you, for we are old friends. I desire very much 
that General Haverill should not know that — that any accident 
occurred to me to-night — or that my health has not been perfect. 

Kek. Certainly, madam! 

Mrs. H. It would render him anxious without cause. 

Ker. (Aside.) It looks as if Kobert was right; she doesn't want 
the two men to meet. 

[Enter Haterill, l. c. A white silk handkerchief in his hand.] 

t Haver. Constance, my dear, I've been all over the place 
looking for you. I thought you were in your room. But —by the 
way, Kerchival, this is your handkerchief; your initials are on it. 
(Kerchival turns and stares at him a, second. Mrs. Haverill. 
starts slightly and turns front. Haver, glances quickly from one 
to the other., then extends his hands toward Kerchival, witli the 
handkerchief. Ker. moves to him and takes it. Mrs. Haver. 
drops into chair, r. c.) 

Ker. Thank you. (He walks up and exits l. c, wit/i a quick 
jjglanceback. Haver, looks at M.b.^. Haverill, icho sits nervously, 
ooki)ig atca.y. He then glances wjo l. c. after Yi^n. A cloud comes 
over his face and he stands a second in thought. Then., ivith a 
movement as if brushi7ig away a passing suspicion, lie smiles 
pleasantly and approaches Mrs. H. ; leans over her.) 

Haver. My fair Pesdemona! (Smiling.^ I found Cassio's 
handkerchief in your room. Have you a kiss for me'? (She looks 
up, he raises her chin with a finger and kisses her.) That's the 
way I shall smother you. 

Mrs. li. (Rising and dropping her head upon his breast.) Hus- 
band! 

Haver. But what is this they have been "telling me? 

Mrs. H. What have they said to you? 

Haver. There was something wrong with you in the early 
part of the evening; you are trembling and excited, my girl! 

Mrs. H. It was nothing, John; I — I — was ill, for a few mo- 
ments, but I am well now. 

Haver. You said nothing about it to me. 

Mrs. H. Do not give it another thought. 

Haver. Was there anything besides your health involved in 
the affair? There was. (Aside.) How came this handkerchief 
in her room ? 

Mrs. H My husband ! I do not want to say anything more — 
at — at present — about what happened to-night. There has never 
been a shadow between us — will you not trust me? 

Haver. Shadow ! You stand in a bright light of your own, 
my wife ; it shines upon my whole life — there can be no shadow 
there. Tell me as much or as little as you like, and in your own 
time. I am sure you will conceal nothing from me that I ought 
to know. I trust my honor and my happiness to you, abso- 
lutely. 

Mrs. H. They will both be safe, John, in my keeping. But 



SHENANDOAH. 17 

tliere is something else that I wish to speak with you about ; 
something very near to your heart — your son ! 

Havek. My son ! 

Mus. H. He is in Charleston. 

Haver. And not — in prison ? To nie he is nowhere. I am 
childless. 

Mrs. H. I hope to see him to-day ; may I not take him some 
kind word from you'? 

Haver. My lawyers in New York had instructions to provide 
him with whatever he needed. 

Mrs. H. They have done so, and he wants for nothing; he 
asks for nothing except that I will seek out the poor young 
wife — onlv a girl herself — whom he is obliged to desert, in New 
York. 

Haver. His marriage was a piece of reckless folly, but I for- 
gave him that. 

Mrs. H. I am sure that it was only after another was depend- 
ent on him that the debts of a mere spendthrift were t hanged to 
fraud — and crime. 

Haver. You may tell him that I will provide for her. 

Mrs. H. And may I take him no warmer message from his 
father ? 

Haver. I am an officer of the United States Army. The 
name which my son bears came to me Jrom men who had borne 
it with honor, and I transmitted it to him without a blot. He 
has disgraced it, by his own confession. 

Mrs. H. /cannot forget the poor mother who died when he 
was born ; her whose place I have tried to fill, to both Frank and 
to you. 1 never saw her, and she is sleeping in the old grave- 
yard at home. But I am doing what she would do to-day, if she 
were living. No pride — no disgrace — could have turned her face 
from him. The care and the love of her son has been to me the 
most sacred duty which one woman can assume for another. 

Haver. You have fulfilled that duty, Constance. Go to my 
son ! I would go with you, but he is a man now ; he could not 
look into my eyes, and I could not trust myself. But I will send 
him something which a man will understand. Frank loves you 
as if you were his own mother ; and I — I would like him to — to 
think tenderly of me, also. He will do it when he looks at this 
picture. {Taking a, miniature from his pocket. ) 

Mrs. H. Of me ? 

H.\a^er. I have never been without it one hour, before, since 
we were married. He will recognize it as the one that 1 have 
carried through every campaign, in every scene of danger on the 
Plains; the one that has always been with me. He is a fugitive 
from justice. At times, when despair might overcome him, this 
may give him nerve to meet his future life manfully. It has often 
nerved me, when I might have failed without it. Give it to him, 
and tell him that I send it. {Oivincj her the miniature.) I could 
not send a kinder message, and he will understand it. {Turning 
L., stands a m,omeiit in thunght. Tiwrtsto^ appears at windoic R., 
looking at them quietly., over his shoulder, a cigar in his hand. 



■ 18 SHENANDOAH. 

Mrs. H. sees Mm and starts with a suppressed breath, then looks at 
Kayeb.., icho moves Ij. Aside.) My son! My son! We shall never 
meet again! [Exit l. 1 e., in thought. 

( Mrs. H. looks after him earnestly, then turns and looks 
at Thoiinton, drawing up to her full height. Thornton 
moves up stage, beyond window.) 

Mrs. H. {Moving r. front.) Will he dare to speak to me again? 
{Enter Thornton up c; he comes down l. c, quietly. He has 
thrown away cigar.) 

Thorn. Mrs. Haverill! I wish to offer you an apology! 

Mrs. H. I have not asked for one, sir ! 

Thorn. Do you mean by that, that you will not accept one ? 

Mrs. H. {Aside.) What can I say? {Aloud.) Oh, Mr. Thorn- 
ton! — for my husband's sake, I 

Thorn. Ah ! You are afraid that your husband may become 
involved in an unpleasant affair. Your t-olicitude for his safety, 
madame, makes me feel that my offence to-night was indeed un- 
pardonable. No gentleman can excuse himself for making such 
a mistake as I have made. I had supposed that it was Lieutenant 
Kerchival West who 

Mrs. H. What do you mean, sir ? 

Thorn. But if it is your husband that stands between us 

Mrs. H. Let me say this, sir ; whatever I may fear for my 
husband, he fears nothing for himself. 

Thorn. He knows? {Looking at her, keenly.) 

[Enter KERCHivAii West, now in riding suit, up t,. c] 

{He stops, looking at them.) You are silent. Your husband does 
know what occurred to night ; that relieves my conscience. 
{Lightly.) Colonel Haverill and 1 can now settle it laetween us. 

Mrs. H. No, Mr. Thornton ! My husband knows nothing, 
and, I beg of you, do not let this horrible affair go further. {Sees 
Ker.) 

Ker. Pardon me. {Stepping forward, c.) I hope I am not in- 
terrupting you. {Aside.) It iras Thornton. (X. R. c. Aloud.) 
You said you would have a letter for me to carry, Mrs. Haverill. 

Mrs. H. Yes, I — I will go up and write it at once. {X. up L.; 
stops and looks back Aside.) 1 wonder how much he overheard. 

Ker. {Q,ui6tly.) I suppose eight o'clock will be time enough 
for me to go ? 

Mrs. H. Oh, yes! {glancing at 1dm a moment) — quite. 

[Exit up L. c, through apartment- 

Ker. {Quietly.) Mr. Thornton ! you are a scoundrel ! Do I 
make myself plain ? 

Thorn. You make the fact that you desire to pick a quarrel 
with me quite plain, sir ; but I choose my own quarrels and my 
own enemies. 

Ker. Colonel Haverill is my commander, and he is beloved 
by every officer in the regiment. 

Thornton. On what authority, may I ask, do you 

Ker. The honor of Colonel Haverill's wife is under our pro- 
tection. 



SHENANDOAH. 19 

Thornton. Under your protection 1 You have a better claim 
tlian that, perhaps, to act as her champion. Lieutenant Ker- 
chival West is Mrs. Haverill's favorite officer in the regiment. 

Ker. (Approaching Mm.) You dare to suggest that 1 

Thorn. If I accept your challenge, I shall do so not because 
you are her protector, but my rival. 

Ker. Bah ! {Striking Jiim sJharply on the cheek with glove. 
The two men stand facing each other a moment.) Is it my quarrel 
now? 

Thorn. I think you are entitled to my attention, sir. 

Ker. My time here is limited. 

Thornton. We need not delay. The Bayou La Forge is con- 
venient to this place. 

Ker. I'll meet you there, with a friend, at once. 

Thorn. It will be light enough to see the sights of our 
weapons in about one hour. {21tey bow to each other., and 
Thorn, goes out, l 1 e.) 

Ker. I've got ahead of Bob. 
■ Gert. {Without, R.) Whoa ! Jack ! Old boy ! Steady, now — 
that's a good fellow. 

Ker. She has returned. I mvst know whether Gertrude 
Ellingham loves me — before Thornton and I meet. He is a good 
shot. 

Gert. ( Without, calling.) — h ! Pete ! You may take Jack 
to the stable. Ha — ha — ha ! {Appeals at windoio: to IvEit.) Old 
Pete, on the bay horse, has been doing his best to keep up with 
us ; but Jack and I had led him such a race ! Ha — ha — ha — ha ! 
{Disappearing beyond window.) 

Ker. Does she love me ? 

Gert. {Entering tip c. and coming down.) I have the very lat- 
est news from the headquarters of the Confederate Army in South 
Carolina. At twenty minutes after three this morning General 
Beauregard sent this message to Major Anderson in Fort Sump- 
ter: '' I shall open fire in one hour ! " The time is up ! — and he will 
keep his word ! {Turning R. and looking out of the window. Ker. 
m,oves across to her.) 

Ker. Gertrude ! I must speak to you ; we may never meet 
again ; but I must know the truth. I love you. {Seizing 
her hand.) Do you love me? {Site looks around at him as if 
about to speak ; hesitates.) Answer me ! {She looks down with a 
coquettish smile, tapping her skirt with her riding whip.) Well ? 
{A distant report of a cannon, and low rumbling reverberations over 
■the harbor. Gert. turns suddenly, looking out R. Ker. draws 
up, also looking off.) 

Gert. A low — bright — line of fire — in the sky ! It is a shell. 
'{A second's pause ; she starts slightly.) It has burst upon the fort. 
{Looks over her shoulder at Ker. , draicing up to her full Jieight. ) 
Now ! — do you believe that we Southerners are in deadly earnest ? 

Ker. We Northerners are in deadly earnest, too. I have re- 
ceived my answer. {X.'s quickly, turns.) We are — enemies I 
('They look at each other for a moment.) 

[Exit Kerchival, l. 1 e. 



20 SHENANDOAH. 

Gert. Kercliival ! [Moving quickly half across stage, looking- 
after Mm eagerly ; stops.) Enemies ! {She drops into chair R. c.^ 
sobbing bitterly. Another distant report, and low, long reverbera- 
tions as the curtain descends.) 

Curtain. 



SHENANDOAH. 21 



ACT 11. 



SCENE. — The Ellingliam Homestead in the Shenandoah Valley. 
Exterior. Three Top Mountain, in the distance. A corner of 
the house l. 1 e., with projecting end of veranda. Loio wall 
extending up from veranda to c. at about 3, then down and out 
R. 1 E. ^ wide opening in the wall from c. to l. c, with a 
low, heavy stone post, tcith flat top, on each side. Beyond tJie 
tcall and opening, a road runs across stage, from l. 2 to n. 
4 E. At the back of tins road, elevation of rock and turf. 
This slopes up from out l. 4 e., behind wood wing. It is level 
on the top about twelve feet; slopes down to road E. c, and 
also out behind wood icings at R. 4 E. The level part in the 
centre rises to about four feet above the stage. Beyond this 
elevation the distance is a broad valley, with Three Top Moun- 
tain rising on the R. c;. and R. Foliage appropiate to Northern 
Virginia — walnut, cottomcood, etc. Rustic seats and (able r. c. 
Seat L. c. near veranda. A low rock 7iear the stone post c. 
Sunset when curtain rises. As the act proceeds this fades iyito 
tmlight and then bright moonlight. The number references for 
the trumpet signals, in this and the next act, are to the official 
book, entitled ^''Cavalry Tactics, United States Army," pu^- 
lished by D. Appleton & Co., N. T., 1S87. The number refer- 
ences for the Torch Signals, in this act, are to the General 
Service Code. 'This code may be found, with illustrations and 
instructions, in a book entitled ^'Signal Tactics," by Lieut. 
Hugh T. Reed, IT. S. Army; publisliedby John Riley and Sons, 
10 Astor Place, N. T., 1880. At 7'ise of curtain, Irumpet 
Signal JVo. 34 or No. 35 is heard, very distant, up l. Ger- 
trude and Madeline discovered on elevation up c. Ger- 
trude is shading her eyes with her hand and looking off L. 
Madeline stands a little below her, on the incline, resting her 
arm about Gertrude's icaist, also looking off. 

Gert. It is a regiment of Union Cavalry. The Federal troops 
now have their lines three miles beyond us, and only a month ago 
the Confederate Army was North of Winchester. One army or 
the other has been marching up and down the Shenandoah Valley 
for three years. I wonder what the next change will be. We in 
Virginia have had more than our share of the war. {Looking 
off'.) 

Mad. You have indeed, Gertrude. ( Walking down l. to seat.) 
And we at home in Washington have pitied you so much. But 
everybody says that there will be peace in the valley after this. 
{Dropping into seat, L. c.) 

Gekt. Peace! {Coming down.) That word means something 
very different to us poor Southerns from what it means to you. 



22 SHENANDOAH. 

Mad. I know, dear; and we in tlae North know how you have 
suffered, too. We were v^ery glad when General Buckthorn was 
appointed to the command of the Nineteenth Army Corps, so that 
Jenny could get permission for herself and me to come and visit 
you. 

Gert. The old General will do anything for Jenny, I suppose. 

Mad. Yes. {Laughing.) We say in Washington that Jenny 
is in command of the Nineteenth Army Corps herself. 

Gekt. I was never more astonished or delighted in my life 
than when you and Jenny Buckthorn rode up, this morning, with 
a guard from Winchester; and Madeline, dear, I — I only wish that 
my brother Robert could be here, too. Do you remember in 
Charleston, darling — that morning — when I told you that — that 
Robert loved you? 

Mad. He — {looking down) — he told me so himself only a little 
while afterwards, and while we were standing there, on the shore 
of the bay — the — the shot was fired which compelled him to enter 
this awful war — and me to return to my home in the North. 

Gert. I was watching for that shot, too. {TiLrning l.) 

Mad. Yes — {rising) — you and brother, Kerchival 

Gert. We won't talk about that, my dear. We were speak- 
ing of Robert. As I told you this morning, I have not heard from 
him since the battle of Winchester, a month ago. Oh, Madeline! 
the many, many long weeks, like these, we have suffered, after 
some terrible battle in which he has been engaged. I do not 
know, now, whether he is living or dead. 

Mad. The whole war has been one long suspense to me. 
{Dropping her face into her hands.) 

Gert. My dear sister ! {Placing her arm about her waist and 
moving L.) You are a Northern girl, and I am a Rebel — but we 
are sisters. {They go up veranda and out L. 2 E.) An old coimtry- 
man comes in on a cane, L. 3 E. He stops R. c. and glaiiees back, 
raises a broken portion of the capstone of post, R. c, and places a 
letter under it. Gert. has stepped back on veranda and is watch- 
ing him. He raises his head sharply, looking at her and bringing 
his finger to his lips. He drops his head again, as with age, and 
goes out R. 2 e. Gert. mores down to stage and vj) to road, looks 
R. and h., raises the broken stone, glancing back as she does so ; 
takes letter and moves down.) Robert is alive ! It is his hand- 
writing ! {Tears open the wrapper.) Only a line from him! and 
this — a dispatch — and also a letter to me ! Why, it is from Mrs. 
Haverill — from Washington — with a United States postmark. 
{Reads from a scrap of paper.) 

"The enclosed dispatch must be in the hands of Captain 
Edward Thornton before eight o'clock to-night. We have sig- 
naled to him from Three Top Mountain, and he is waiting for it at 
the bend in Oak Run. Our trusty scout at the Old Forge will 
carry it if you will put it in his hands." 

The scout is not there, now ; I will carry it to Captain Thornton 
myself. I — I haven't my own dear horse to depend on now ; 
Jack knew every foot of the way through the woods about here ; 
he could have carried a dispatch himself. I can't bear to think 



SHENANDOAH. 23 

of Jack ; it's two years since be was captured by tbe enemy — and 
if be is still living — I — I suppose lie is carrying one of tbeir offi- 
cers. No ! Jack wouldn't tigbt on that side. He was a Rebel — 
as I am. He was one of the Black Horse Cavalry — bis eyes always 
flashed towards the North. Poor Jack ! my pet. {Brusldng her 
eyes ) But this is no time for tears. I must do tbe best I can with 
the gray horse. Captain Thornton shall have the dispatch. 
{Iieads from note.) 

"I also inclose a letter for you. I found it in a United States 
mail-bag which we captured from the enemy." 

Oh — tuat's tbe way Mrs. Haverill's letter came — Ha — ha — ha, 
— by way of the Rebel army ! (Opens it; reads.) 

"My Darling Gertrude : When Colonel Kerchival West was in 
Wasbigton last week, on his way from Chattanooga, to serve 
under Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley, he called upon me. 
It was the fii"st time I bad seen him since ttie opening of the war. 
I am certain that be still loves you, dear." (S/ie kisses the letter 
eagerly, then draios up.) It is quite immaterial to me whether 
Kerchival West still loves me or not. (Reads.) 

" I have kept your secret, my darling." — Ah! My secret ! — 
" but I was sorely tempted to betray the confidence you reposed 
in me at Charleston. If Kerchival West bad beard you say, as I 
did, when your face was hidden in my bosom, that night, that 

you loved him with your whole heart " — Oh ! I could bite my 

tongue out now for making that confession — (Looks down at letter 
with a smile.) " I am certain that he still loves you." {TruTnpet 
Signal No. 41. Kisses the letter repeatedly. Trumpet Signal 
No. 41, loiider than at first. She starts, listening.) 

Jenny BrcKTHOUN runs in, l. 2 E , oti the veranda. 

Jen. Do you hear, Gertrude, they are going to pass this very 
house. (Military hand. '^ John Brown" playing in the distance. 
Chorus of Soldiers.) I've been watching them through my glass ; 
it is Colonel Kerchival West's regiment. 

Gert. (Eagerly, then, coldly.) Colonel West's ! It is perfectly 
indifferent to me whose regiment it is. 

Jen. Oh ! Of course. {Coming down.) It is equally indif- 
ferent to me ; Captain Heartsease is in command of the first 
troop. (Trumpet Signal No. b2.) Column right! (She runs up 
to road c. Looks l ) They are coming up tbe hill. 

Gert. At my very door! And Kerchival West in command! 
I will not stand here and see them pass. (X.-ing l,.) The despatch 
for Captain Thornton. I will carry it to him as soon as they are 
gone. (Exit up veranda arid up l. 2 e., the band and chorus in- 
creasing in volume.) 

Jen. Cavalry! That's the branch of the service Iwasborn in; 
I was in a fort at tbe time — on tbe Plains. Sergeant, Barket al- 
ways said that my first baby squall was a command to the garri- 
son; if any officer or soldier, from my father down, failed to obey 
my orders, I court-martialed him on the spot. I'll make 'em pass 
in review. (Jumping up on tlie rustic seat, n. c.) Yes! (Looking 
off L.) There's Captain Heartsease himself, at the head of the 
first Iroop. Draw Sabre! (With parasol.) Present! {Imitating 



24 SHENANDOAH. 

the action. 3Iusie. The hand and chorus now full and loud; she 
sipings parasol in time. Trumpet tiignal No. 40. Band and 
choru-fi suddenly cease.) Halt! Why, they are stopping here. 
{Trumpet Sigmd No. 38.) Dismount! I — I wonder if they are 
going to — I do believe — (Looking l. eagerly. Trumpet Signal No. 
17.) Assembly of Guard Details! As sure as fate, they are going 
into camp here. We girls will have a jolly time. {Jumping 
doicn.) Ha — ha — ha — ha! Let me see. How shall I receive 
Captain Heartsease? He deserves a court-martial, for he stole my 
lace handerchief — at Mrs. Grayson's reception — in Washington. 
He was called away by orders to the West that very night, and 
we haven't met since. {Sighs.) He's been in lots of battles since 
then; I suppose he's forgotten all about the handkerchief. We 
girls, at home, don't forget such things. We aren't in battles. 
All we can do is to — to scrape lint and flirt with other officers. 
{Down R.) 

[Enter Captain Heartsease, l. 3 e., followed by Colonel 
Robert Ellingham; stops at gate, l.] 

Heart. This way. Colonel Eillingham. {They enter. As 
they come down c. Heartsease stops suddenly, looking at Jenny; 
puts up his glasses.) Miss Buckthorn! 

Jen. Captain Heartsease! 

Heart. ( Very quietly and with perfect composure.) I am thun- 
der struck. The unexpected sight of you has thrown me into a 
fever of excitement. 

Jen. Has it? {Aside.) If he gets so excited as that in battle it 
must be awful. {Aloud.) Colonel Ellingham! {X.-ing to Mm; 
Heartsease walks R.) 

Elling. Miss Buckthorn! You are visiting my sister ? lam 
what may be called a visitor — by force — myself. 

Jen. Oh! You're a prisioner! 

Elling. I ventured too far within the Union lines to-night, 
and they have picked me up. But Major Wilson has kindly ac- 
cepted my parole, and I shall make the best of it. 

Jen. Is Major Wilson in command of the regiment? 

Heart. Yes. Colonel West is to join us at this point, during 
the evening. 

Elling. I am very glad you are here, Miss Buckthorn, with. 
Gertrude. 

Jen. Somebody here will be delighted to see you, Colonel. 

Elling. My sister can hardly be pleased to see me as a pris- 
oner. 

Jbn. Not your sister. {Passing him and X.-ing to veranda, l., 
turns and beckons to him. She motions with her thumb, over her 
shoulder. He goes up the steps of the veranda and turns.) 

Elling. What do you mean ? 

Jen. I mean this — {Reaching up her face, he leans down, 
placing Ms ear near her lips.) — somebody else's sister ! When she 
first sees you, be near enough to catch her. 

Elling. I understand you ! Madeline ! {Exit l. 2 E. on 
veranda. Jenny runs up steps after him, stops and looks back at 
Heartsease over the railing. Heartsease takes a lace hand- 



SHENANDOAH. 25 

kerchief from Mf^ pocket.) 

Jen. I do believe that's my handkerchief . {^A guard of Sen- 
tries marches in i. 3 e. and across stage in road. The Corporal in 
command orders halt and a Sentry to post, then marches guard 
out, K. 8 E. T7te Sentry stands vyith his back to audience, 
R., afterwards moving out and in k. , appearing and disappearing 
during act.) 

Heart. Miss Buckthorn ! I owe you an apology. After I 
left your side, the last time we met, I found your handkerchief 
in my possession. I assure you, it was an accident. {Walk- 
ing L.) 

Jen. {Aside, pouting). I thought he intended to steal it. 
{Aloud.) That was more than a year ago. {Then brightly .) Do 
you always carry it with you? 
. Heart. Always; there. {Indicating his left breast pocket.) 

Jen. Next to his heart! 

Heart. Shall I return it to you 'i 

Jen. Oh, if a lace handkerchief can be of any use to you, 
Captain, during the hardships of a campaign — you — you may 
keep that one. You soldiers have so few comforts — and it's 
real lace. 

Heart. Thank you. (Returning handkerchief to his pocket.) 
Miss Buckthorn, your papa is in command of the Nineteenth 
Army Corps. He doesn't like me. 

Jen. I know.it. 

He.\rt. But you are in command of him. 

Jen. Yes ; I always have been. 

Heart. If ever you decide to assume command of any other 
man, I — I trust you will give me your orders. 

Jen. {Aside, starting back.) If that was intended for a pro- 
posal, it's the queerest-shaped one I ever heard of. (Aloud.) Do 

you mean. Captain, that — that you 1 must command myself 

now. (Shouldering 7ier parasol.) 'Bout — face ! March ! (Turn- 
ing squarely around, marching up and out, l 2 e., on veranda.) 

Heart. I have been placed on waiting orders. {Stepping up 
L. V. and looking after her; then very quietly and without emotion.) 
I am in an agony of suspense. The sight of that girl always 
arouses the strongest emotions of my nature. (Enter Colonel 
Kerchival West, j.. 3 e. , looking at paper in his hand. The 
Sentinel, r., in road, comes to a salute.) Colonel West! 

Ker. Captain ! 

Heart. You have rejoined the regiment sooner than we ex- 
pected. 

■-' Ker. (Looking at paper.) Yes; General Haverill is to meet me 
here at seven o'clock. Major Wilson tells me that some of your 
company captured Colonel Bobert Ellingham, of the Tenth Vir- 
ginia. 

Heart. He is here under parole. 

Ker. And this is the old Ellingham homestead. (Aside, icalk- 
ing down r.) Gertrude herself is here, I suppose; almost a 
prisoner to me, like her brother; and my troops surround their 
home. She must, indeed, feel that I am her enemy now. Ah, 



86 SHENANDOAH. 

X ' ' ■•-'■'-'- 
well, war is war. (Aloud.) By the bye, Iteartsease, a young 
Lieutenant, Frank Bedloe, has joined our troop? 

Heart. Yes; an excellent young officer. 
. - — ^Ker. I sent for him as I came through the camp. Lieutenant 
Frank " Bedloe" is the son of General Haverill. 

Heart. Indeed! Under an assumed name! 

Ker. He was supposed to have been killed in New Orleans 
more than a year ago ; but he was taken prisoner instead. (Look- 
ing R.) I should never have known him. 

[Enter Lieutenant Frank Bedloe, l. 3 e.; lie stops, e. c, 
saluti7ig.'\ 

Frank. You wished me to report to you. Colonel? 
_^Ker. You have been assigned to the regiment during my ab- 
sence. 

Frank. Yes, sir. (Kerchival moves to him and grasps his 
hand; looks into his eyes a moment before speaking.) 
^__- — Ker. Frank Haverill. 

Frank. You — you know me, sir? 
-Ker. I saw Mrs. Haverill while I was passing through Wash- 
ington on Saturday. She told me that you had escaped from 
prison in Richmond, and had re-entered the service. She did not 
know then that you had been assigned to my regiment. I re- 
ceived a letter from her, in Winchester, this morning, informing 
me of the fact, and asking for my good offices in your behalf. 
But here is the letter. (Taking letter from tvallet and giving it to 
him.) It is for you rather than for me. I shall do everything I 
can for you, my dear fellow. ( Walking across, down L.) 

Frank. Thank you, sir. (Opens letter, dropping the envelope 
upon the table, R. c.) Kind, thoughtful and gentle to my faults, 
as ever — (Looking at the letter.) — and always thinking of my 
welfare. My poor little wife, too, is under her protection. 
Gentlemen, I beg of you not to reveal my secret to my father. 
.,^— — IvER. General Haverill shall know nothing from us, my boy, 
you have my word for that. 

Heart. — Nothiag. 
L — Ker. And he cannot possibly recognize you. What with 
' your full beard, and thinking as he does, that you are 

Frank. That I am dead. I am dead to him. It would have 
been better if I had died. Nothing but my death — not even 
that — can wipe out the disgrace which I brought upon his name. 
.1 ^.^^ I TfMT"' Gen. Haverill has arrived. (Looking R.) 

[Enter General Haverill, r. 2 e., with a Staff Officer.'] 

Frank. (Moving down R.) My father ! 

Haver. (Exchanging salutes with the three officers. He turns 
to the Staff Officer, giving him a paper and brief instructions in 
dumb show, pointing up r. The Officer goes out over the incline., 
R. 3 e. Another Staff' Officer enters, l. 3 e., salutes and hands Mm 
a paper, then stands up, Ti. G.) Ah! The men are ready. (Look- 
ing at the paper, then to Kerchival.) Colonel! I have a very 
important matter to arrange with you ; there is not a moment to 
be lost. I will ask Captain Heartsease to remain. (Frank sa- 



SHENANDOAH. 27 

lutes and starts up stage; Haverili. looks at him, starting 
slightly ; raises his hand to detain him.) One moment; your 
name ! 

,Ji«AWT. Lieutenant Bedloe, General, of my own troop, and 
one of our best officers. (IIayerili- steps to Frank, looking into 
his face a moment.) 

Haver. Pardon me ! {Stej)jying donm R. c. Frank moves up 
c, stops and looks hack at him. Haverill stands up a moment in 
thought., covers his face with one hand, then draios up.) Colonel 
West ! We have a most dangerous piece of work for a young 
officer— (Frank starts joyfully.)— to lead a party of men, whom I 
have already selected. I cannot order an officer to undertake 
anything so nearly hopeless ; he must be a volunteer. 

Frank. Oh, sir, General ! Let me be their leader. 

Haver. I thought you had passed on. 

Frank. Do not refuse me, sir. (Haverill looks at him a 
moment. Heartsease and Kerchival exchange glances.) 

Haver. You are ihe man we need, my young friend. You 
shall go. Listen ! We wish to secure a key to the cipher des- 
patches, which the enemy are now sending from their signal sta- 
tion on Three Top Mountain. There is another Confederate 
Signal Station in the valley, just beyond Buckton'sFord {Point- 
ing up ^J.^ Your duty will be this: First, to get inside the en- 
emy's line ; then to follow a path through the woods, with one of 
our scouts as your guide ; attack the Station suddenly, and secure 
their code, if possible. I have this moment received word that 
the scout and the men are at the fort, now, awaiting their leader. 
Major McCandless, of my statf, will take yoii to the place. {In- 
dicating the Staff Officer. Frakk exchanges salutes with him.) 
My young friend! I do not conceal from you the dangerous 
nature of the work on which I am sending you. If — if you do 
not return, I — I will write, myself, to your friends. {Taking out 
note hook.) Have you a father living ? 

Frank. My — father— is — is — he is 

Haverill. I understand you. A mother ? Or 

_--vKer. I have the address of Lieut. Bedloe's friends. General. 

Hav. I will ask you to give it to me, if necessary. {Extends 
hishand.) Good-bye, my lad. (Frank moves to Mm. Haver. 
grasps Ms hand, icarmly.) Keep a brave heart and come back to 
us. (Frank mones up c. E.nt Staff Officers.) 

Frank. He is my father still. {Exit l. 2 e. 

Haver. My dead boy's face ! {Dropping Ms face into both 
Jiands.) 

Heart. {Apart to KerCiiival.) He shall' not go alone. 
(Aloud.) General! Will you^ kindly give me leave of absence 
from the command? \ 

Hav. Leave of absence! Td an officer in active service — and 
in the presence of the enemy? \Walki71g R.) 

Ker. {Taking his hand. Awxrt.) God bless you, old fellow! 
Look after the boy. I 

Hav. a — h — {With a sudden, thought, turns.) I think I un- 
derstand you. Captain Heartsease. Yes; you may have leave of 



28 , SHENANDOAH. 

absence, ^ \ [ '■ 

Heart. Thank you. (Salutes. Haver, and Ker. salute.) 

[Exit Heart., l. 3 e. 
-'■ Ker. (l.) Have you any further orders for me, General? 

Haver. I wish you to understand the great importance of the 
duty to which I have just assigned this young officer. General 
Sheridan started for Washington this noon, by way of Front 
Royal. Since his departure, we have had reason to believe that 
the enemy are about to move, and we must be able to read their 
signal despatches, if possible. {Sitting, R. c.) I have ordered 
Capt. Lock wood, of our own Signal Corps, to report to you here, 
with officers and men. ( Takes up the empty envelope on table, uncon- 
sciously, as he speaks, tapping it on the table.) If Lieut. Bedloe 
succeeds in getting the key to the enemy's cipher, we can signal 
from this point — {pointing to elevation)— to our station at Front 
Royal. Men and horses are waiting there now, to carry forward 
a message, if necessary, to Gen. Sheridan himself. (He starts 
suddenly, looking at the envelope in liis hand; reads address. 
Aside. ) ' ' Colonel Kerchival West " — in my wife's handwriting ! 

West. I'll attend to your orders. 

Haverill. Postmarked at Washington, yesterday. {Reads.) 
'^^^rrvate and confid^tial." {Aloud.) Col. West! I found a 
paragraph, to-day, in a paper published in Richmond, taken from 
a prisoner. I will read it to you. {Takes newspaper slip from 
Ms wallet and reads.) 

" From the Charleston Mercury. Captain Edward Thornton, of 
the Confederate Secret Service, has been assigned to duty in the 
Shenandoah Valley. Our gallant Captain still bears upon his face 
the mark of his meeting, in 1861, with Lieut., now Col., Kerchi- 
val West, who is also to serve in the valley, wifh Sheridan's 
Army. Another meeting between these two men would be one of 
the strange coincidences of the war, as they were at one time, if 
not indeed at present, interested in the same beautiful woman." 
{Rises. ) 

I will ask you to read the last few lines, yourself. {X.-ing, 
hands Ker the slip. ) 

Ker. (Reading.) " The scandal connected with the lovely wife 
of a Northern officer, at the opening of the war, was overshadowed, 
of course, by the attack 6n Fort Sumpter; but many Charlestoni- 
ans will remember it. The lady in defense of whose good name 
Capt. Thornton fought the duel " — He defending her good name! — 
" is the wife of General Haverill, who will be Col. West's immedi- 
ate commander." {He pauses ^f moment, thoi hands back the slip.) 
General! I struck Mr. Thornton after a personal quarrel. 

Hav. And the cause of the blow ? There is much more in this 
than I have ever known of. I need hardly say that I do not ac- 
cept the statement of this scandalous paragraph as correct. I 
will ask you to tell me the whole story, frankly, as man to man. 

Ker. {After a moment's thought.) I will tell you — all — frankly. 
General. 

[Enter Sergeant Barket, l. 3 e.] 

Barket. Colonel Wist? Adjutant Rollins wishes me to re- 



SHENANDOAH. 89 

port — a prisoner — just captured. 

H.vvERiLL. We will meet again later, to-night, when the 
camp is at rest. We are both soldiers, and have duties before 
U8, at once. For the present. Colonel, be on the alert ; we must 
watch the enemy. {He moves up c. B.vkket .salutes. Haveuill 
stops and cooks at envelope in his hands, reading) "Private and 
confidential." [Exit, L 3 e. 

Kekchival. Sergeant Barket ! Lieutenant Bedloe has cro.ssed 
the enemy's lines, at Buckton's Ford, with a party of men. I 
wish you to ride to the ford yourself, and remain there, with 
your horse in readiness and fresh. As soon as any survivor of 
the party returns, ride back with the first news at full speed. 

Bakket. Yes, sir. {Starting.) 

Kkkciiival. You say a prisoner has been captured? Is it a 
spy ? 

Barket. Worse — a petticoat. 

Ker. {Crossing r.) A female prisoner! {Dropping into seat, 
K. c.) 

Barket. I towld the byes your honor wouldn't thank us fer 
the catchin' of her. The worst of it is she's a lady ; and what's 
worse still, it's a purty one. 

Ker. Tell Major Wilson, for me, to Jet her take the oath, and 
everything else she wants. The Government of the United States 
will send her an apology and a new bonnet. 

Barket. The young lady is to take the oath, is it? She says 
she'll see us damned first. 

Ker. a lady, Barket? 

Barket. Well ! she didn't use thim exact words. That's the 
way I understand her emphasis. Ivery time she looks at me, I 
feel like getting under a boom-proof. She was dashing through 
the woods on a gray horse, sur ; and we had the divil's own chase. 
But we came up wid her, at last, down by the bend in Oak Run. 
Just at that moment we saw the figure of a Confederate officer, 
disapparing among the trays on the ither side. 

Ker. a — h ! 

Barket. Two of us rayturned wid the girl ; and the rist wint 
after the officer. Nothing has been heard of thim yet. 

Ker. Have vou found any dispatches on the prisoner? 

Barket. Well ! — yer honor, I'm a bachelor, meself ; and I'm 
not familiar with the jayography of the sex. We byes are in 
mortal terror for fear somebody might order us to go on an ex- 
ploring expedition. 

Ker. Tell them to send the prisoner here, Barket, and hurry 
to Buckton's Ford yourself, at once. 

Barket. As fast as me horse can carry me, sir, and it's a good 
one. " [Exit, l. 3 e. 

Ker. I'd rather deal with half the Confederate army than 
with one woman, but I must question her. They captured her 
down by the Bend in Oak Kun. {Taking out map ; looks at it.) I 
see. She had just met, or was about to meet, a Confederate offi- 
cer at that point. It is evident that she was either taking him a 
dispatch or was there to receive one. Oak Run. (Corporal Dunn 



30 SHENANDOAH. 

and two soldiers enter, l. 3 e., xoith Gert. as aprisoner. They 
stop, c. Ker. sits, facing n. and studying map. G eut. glances at 
him and marches dozen l. witJi head erect ; stops, witli. her back to 
him, down l. ) 

Corp. Dunn. The prisoner, Colonel West ! 

Kerchival. All ! Very well, Corporal ; you can go. (Ris- 
ing ; he motions the guard to retire. Corp. Dunn gives the 
necessary orders and exit icith guard, l. 3 e.) Be seated, madame. 
Gert. draios up, folding her arms and planting her foot, spitefully. 
Ker. shrugs his shoulder. Aside.) I wish they'd capture a 
tigress for me, or some other female animal that I know how to 
manage better than I do with a woman. {Aloud.) I am very 
sorry, madam ; but, of course, my duly as a military officer is 
paramount to all other considerations. You have been captured 
within the lines of this army, and under circumstances which 
lead me to think that you have important despatches upon your 
person. I trust that you will give me whatever you have, at 
once. I shall be exceedingly sorry if you compel me to adopt 
the extreme — and the very disagreeable course — for both of 
us — of having you — I — I hesitate even to use the word, madame — 
but military law is absolute — having you 

Gert. Searched ! If you dare, Colonel West ! {Turning to 
him suddenly and drainvg up to her full height.) 

Ker. Gertrude Ellingham ! (Springs across to her, tcitJi 
his arms extended.) My dear Gertrude ! 

Gewt. {Turning her hack upon him.) Not "dear Gertrude" to 
you, sir! 

Ker. Not?— Oh! I forgot. 

Gert. (Coldly.) I am your prisoner. 

Ker. Yes. (Drawing up firmly, with a change of manner.) 
We will return to the painful realities of war. I am very sorry 
that you have placed yourself in a position like this, and, believe 
me, Gertrude— ( With groining tenderness.) — I am still more sorry 
to be in such a position myself. (Resting one hand on her arm, 
and his other arm about her icaist.) 

Gert. (After looking down at his Jiands.) You don't like the 
position? (He starts hack, drawing up with dignity.) Is that the 
paramount duty of a military officer? 

Ker. You will please hand me whatever despatches or other 
papers may be in your possession. 

Gert. (Looking away.) You -w'lW force me, I suppose. I am a 
woman; you have the power. Order in the guard! A Corporal 
and two men — you'd better make it a dozen— I am dangerousl 
Call the whole regiment to arms! Beat the long roll! I won't 
give up, if all the armies of the United States surround me. 

[Enter Gen. Buckthorn, l. 3. e.] 

Ker. General Buckthorn! (Saluting and X.-ingn.) 
Buck. Col. West! 

Gert. (Aside. ) Jenny's father! (Buckthorn glances at Gert., 
who still stands looking away, l. He moves dozen to Kerchival.) 
Buck. (Apart, gruffly.) I was passing with my staff, and I was 



SHENANDOAH. 31 

informed that you had captured a woman bearing despatches 
to the enemy. Is this the one ? 

Ker. Yes, General. 

Buck. Ah! (Turnimj^ looks at her.) 

CtER. I wonder if he will recognize me. He hasn't seen me 
since I was a little girl. {Turns toward Mm.) 

Buck. {Turning to Kek. ; punches him in the ribs.) Fine young 
woman! — {Turns and boiDS to her very gallantly., removing his hat. 
She bows deeply in return.) A— h— e — m! (Suddenly pulling 
himself up to a stern, military air; tlien gruffly to Ker., extending 
his hand.) Let me see the despatches. 

Ker. She declines positively to give them up. 

Buck. Oh! Does she? {Walks up c, thougldfully ; turns.) 
My dear young lady! I trust you will give us no further trouble. 
Kindly let us have those despatches. 

Gert. {Looking away l.) I have no despatches, and I would 
not give them to you if I had. 

Buck. What! You defy my authority? Col. West, I com- 
mand you ! Search the prisoner ! (Gertrude turns suddenly 
towards Ker. , facing him defiantly. He looks across at her aghast. 
A moment's pause.) 

Ker. General Buckthorn — I decline to obey that order. 

Buck. You — you decline to obey my order! {Moves down to 
him fiercely.) 

Ker. {Apart.) General ! It is the woman I love. 

Buck. {Apart.) Is it? Damn you, sir ! I wouldn't have an 
officer in my army corps who would obey me, under such circum- 
stances, ril have to look for those dispatches myself. 

Ker. {Facing him, angrily.) If you dare, General Buck- 
thorn ! 

Buck. {Apart.) Blast your eyes ! I'd kick you out of the 
£^rmy if you'd let me search her ; but it's my military duty to 
swear at you. {To Gertrude.) Col. West has sacrificed his life 
to protect you. 

Gert. His life ! 

Buck. I shall have him shot for insubordination to his com- 
mander, immediately. {Gives Ker. a Juige wink, and turns up 
R. c.) 

Gert. Oh, sir ! General! I have told you the truth. I have 
no despatches. Believe me, sir, I haven't so much as a piece of 
paper about me, except 

Buck, Except? {Turning sharply.) 

Gert. Only a letter. Here it is. {Taking letter from the bosom 
of her dress.) Upon my soul, it is all I have. Truly, it is. 

Buck. {Taking letter.) Col. West, you're reprieved. {Winks 
at Kkh., who turns away, laughing. Buck reads letter.) "Wash- 
ington " — Ho! — ho! From within our own lines! — "Colonel Ker- 
chival West" 

Ker. Eh? 

Gert. Please, General ! — Don't read it aloud. 

Buck. Very well I I won't. 

Ker. {Aside.) I wonder what it has to do with me. 



3-i SHENANDOAH. 

Buck. (Reading. Aside.) " If Kerchival West had heard you 

say, as I did — m— m that you loved him with your whole 

heart — " (He glances up at Gertrude, wJto drojys her head, 
coyly.) This is a very important military document. (Turns to 
last page.) "Signed, Constance Haverill." (Turns to front page.) 
" My dear Gertrude !" Is this Miss Gertrude Ellingham ? 

Gert. Yes, General. 

Buck. I sent my daughter Jenny to your house, with an escort, 
this morning. 

Gert. She is here. 

Buck. (Tapping her under the chin.) You're an arrant little 
Rebel, my dear; but I like you immensely. (Draws up suddenly, 
with an Ahem! Turns to KerchivaIj.) Colonel West, I leave 
this dangerous young woman in your charge. (Ker. approaches.) 
If she disobeys you in any way, or attempts to escape — read that 
letter! (Giving him the letter.) 

Gert. Oh! General! 

Buck. But not till then. (X.-ing k.) 

'K'ER. (Tenderly., taking 7ier hand.) My — prisoner! 

Gert. (Aside.) I could scratch my own eyes out — or his, 
either — rather than have him read that letter. 

[Enter Corporal Dunn, l. u. e., with Guard of four soldiers and 
Capt. Edward Thornton as a prisoner.] 

Ker. Edward Thornton! 

Gert. They have taken him, also! He has the despatch! 

Dunn. The Confederate Officer, Colonel, who was pursued by 
our troops at Oak Run, after they captured the young lady. 

Buck. The little witch has been communicating with the 
enemy! 

Ker. (To Gert.) You will give me your parole of honor until 
we next meet ? 

Gert. Yes. (Aside.) That letter! I am his prisoner. (She 
walks up the steps. Ker. X.'s r. Gert. looks tecA- «^ Thornton. 
Exit L.) 

Ker. (X.'s r. ^o Buck.) We shall probably find the despatches 
we have been looking for now. General. 

Buck. Prisoner! You will hand us what papers you may have. 

Thorn. I will hand you nothing. 

Buck. Colonel! (Ker. ^notions to Thorn., v^lio looks at him, 
sullenly. Bus. and moves down l. c) 

Ker. Corporal Dunn! — search the prisoner. (Dunn steps to 
Thornton, taking him by the shoulder and turning him rather 
roughly. Thornton's hack to the audience. Dunn throws open 
his coat., takes paper from his breetst, hands it to Ker., who gives it 
^0 Buckthorn.) Proceed with the search. (Dv^'^ continues the 
search. Buck, drops upon seat, R. c, lights a match, looks at the 
paper.) 

Buck. (Reading.) " General Rosser will rejoin General Early 

with all the cavalry in his command, at " This is important. 

(Continues to read with matches. The Corporal hands a packet to 
Ker. He removes the covering.) 



SHENANDOAH. 

Ker. {Starting.) A portrait of Mrs. Haverill! {He touches Con. 
Dunn, on the shoiildei' quickly and motions him to retire. Dunn 
falls back to the guard. Ker. speaks apart to Thoknton, ir7io has 
turned front.) How did this portrait come into your possession"? 

Thorn. That is my affair, not yours! 

Buck. Anything else, Colonel? 

Ker. {Placing tlie miniature in his pocket.) Nothing! 

Thorn. {Apart, oxer Kerchivai.'s shoulder.) A time will 
come, perhaps, when I can avenge the insult of this search, and 
also this scar. (Pointing to a scar on his face.) Your aim was 
better than mine in Charleston, but we shall meet again; give me 
back that picture. 

Ker. Corporal! Take your prisoner! 

Thorn. Ah! {Viciously springing at Kerchival; Corporal 
Dunn springs forward, seizes Thornton and throws him hack to 
the G-uard. Kerchival imlks R., Dunn stands with his carbine 
levelled at Thornton, looks at Kerchival, who quiitly i net ions 
him out. Corporal Dunn gives the orders to the men and marches 
out, L. 3 E., icith Thornton.) 

Buck. Ah! {Still reading irith matches.) Colonel! {Bising.) 
The enemy has a new movement on foot, and General Sheridan 
has left the army! Listen! {Reads frotn despatches with matches.) 
" Watch for a signal from Three Top Mountain to-night." 

Ker. We hope to be able to read that signal ourselves. 

Buck. Yes, 1 know. Be on your guard. I will speak with 
Gen. Haverill, and then ride over to General Wright's head- 
quarters. Keep us informed. 

Ker. I will. General. {Seduting. Buckthorn salutes and 
exit, L. 3. E.) 

Ker. "Watch for a signal from Three Top Mountain to- 
night." {Looking up at Mountrrin.) We shall be helpless to read 
it unless Lieut. Bedloe is successful. I only hope the poor boy is 
not lying dead, already, in those dark woods beyond the ford. 
{Looking off l. from up c. ; turns down, taking the miniature from 
Ms jiocket.) How came Edward Thornton to have this portrait of 
Mrs. Haverill in his possession? (Gertrude ?"«H,y i/i l. 2 e. , oh- 
veranda.) 

Gert. Oh, Colonel West! He's here! {Looksback.) They are 
coming this way with him. 

Ker. Him! Who? 

Gert. .Jack. 

Ker. Jack! 

Gert. My own horse! 

Ker. Ah, I remember! He and I were acquainted in Charles- 
ton. 

Gert. Two troopers are passing through the camp with him. 

Ker. He is not in your possession? 

Gert. He was captured at the battle of Fair Oaks, but I re- 
cognized him the moment I saw him; and I am sure he knew me, 
too, when I went up to him. He whinnied and looked so happy. 
You are in command here — {Running down.) — you will compel 
them to give him up to me? 



34 SHENANDOAH. 

Ker. If he is in my command, your pet shall be returned to 
you. Ill give one of my own horses to the Government as a sub- 
stitute, if necessary. 

Gert. Oh, thank you, my dear Kerchival! {Ooing to him; he 
takes her haitd, looking into her eyes.) I — I could almost 

Ker. Can you almost confess, at last, Gertrude, that you — love 
me? {Tenderly; she draws hark, hanging her head^ hut leaving her 
hand in his.) Have I been vs^rong? I felt that that confession was 
hovering on your tongue when we were separated in Charleston. 
Have I seen that confession in your eyes since we met again to- 
day — even among the angry flashes which they have shot out at 
me ? During all this terrible war — in the camp and the trench — 
in the battle — I have dreamed of a meeting like this. You are still 
silent ? {Her hand is still in his. She is looking down. A smile 
steals over her face, and she raises her eyes to ?iis, taking Jiis Jiand 
in both her own.) 

Gert. Kerchival! {Enter Benson, l. 3 E. She looks around 
over her sJioulder. Ker. looks up r.. A trooper leading the large 
black horse of Act 1st, note caparisoned in military saddle, bndle, 
etc., follows Ben sot^ across; another trooper folluws.) Jack! {She 
runs up stage, meeting horse, c. Ker. turns R.) 

Ker. Confound Jack! That infernal horse was always in my 
way! 

Gert. (TIWi her arm about her horse's neck.) My darling old 
fellow! Is he not beautiful, Kerchival? They have taken good 
care of him. How soft his coat is! 

Ker. Benson, explain this! 

Benson. I was instructed to show him through the lines, sir. 

Ker. What are your orders, my man ? {Moving nj), the trooper 
hands Mm a paper. He moves a few steps down r. c, reading it.) 

Gert. You are to be mine again, Jack, mine ! {Resting her cheek 
against the horse's head and patting it.) The Colonel has promised 
it to me. 

Ker. Ah! {With a start, as he reads the paper. Gertrude 
raises her head and looks at him.) This is General Sheridan's 
horse, on his way to Winchester, for the use of the General when 
he returns from Washington. 

Gert. General Sheridan's horse ? He is mine! 

Ker. I have no authority to detain him. He must go on. 

Gert. I have hold of Jack's bridle, and you may order youi 
men to take out their sabres and cut my hand off. 

Ker. {He approaches her and gently takes her hand as it holds 
the bridle.) I would rather have my own hand cut off, Gertrude, 
than bring tears to your eyes, but there is no alternative! (Gert. 
releases the bridle and turns front, brushing her eyes, her hand still 
held in his, his back to the audience. He returns order and motions 
troopers out; they move out u, with horse. Ker. turns to move R. 
Gert. starts after the horse; he turns quickly to check her.) You 
forget— that — you are my prisoner! 

Gert. I will go! 

Ker. General Buckthorn left me special instructions— (fa^wgf 
out wallet and letter) — in case you declined to obey my orders 



SHENANDOAH. 35 

Gert. Oil, Colonel! Please don't read that letter. {She stands 
near /lim, dropping her head. He glances up at her from the letter. 
She yhdices up at Mm and drops her eyes again.) I will obey you. 
{Walks to h. c.) 

Ker. {Aside.) What the deuce can there be in that letter? 

(lEUT. Colonel West! Your men made me a prisoner this 
afternoon; to-night you have robbed me, by your own order, of — 
of — Jack is only a pet, but I love him; and my brother is also a 
captive in your hands. When we separated in Charleston you 
said that we were enemies. What is there lacking to make those 
words true to-day? You are my enemy! A few moments ago 
you asked me to make a confession to you. You can jixdge for 
yourself whether it is likely to be a confession of — love — or of 
hatred! 

Ker. Hatred! {X.-ing to her.) 

Gert. {Facing him.) Listen to my confession, sir! From the 

bottom of my heart 

.Ker. Stop! 

Gert. I will not stop! 

Ker. I command you. 

Gert. Indeed! {He tJirotcs open the wallet in his hand and 
raises the letter.) Ah! {She turns away; turns again., as if to 
speak. He half opens the letter. She stamps her foot andiralks up 

steps of the veranda. Here s?ie turns again.) I tell you, I {He 

opens the letter. She turns., and exit with spiteful step, i,. 2 e.) 

Ker. I wonder if that document orders me to cut her head off! 
{Returning it to wallet and pocket.) Was ever lover in such a 
position ? I am obliged to cross the woman I love at every step. 

{Enter Cori'ORAL Dunn, l. 3 e., very hurriedly.] 

Dunn. A message from Adjutant Rollins, sir! The prisoner, 
Capt. Thornton, dashed away from the special guard which was 
placed over him, and he has escaped. He had a knife concealed, 
and two of the Guard are badly wounded. Adjutant Rollins 
thinks the prisoner is still within the lines of the camp — in one of 
the houses or the stables. 

Ker. Tell Major Wilson to place the remainder of the Guard 
under arrest, and to take every possible means to recapture the 
prisoner. (Corp. Dunn salutes, and exitiu. 3 E.) So! Thornton 
has jumped his guard, and he is armed. I wonder if he is trying 
to get away, or to find me. From what I know of the man, he 
doesn't much care which he succeeds in doing. That scar which 
I gave him in Charleston is deeper in his heart than it is in 
his face. {A signal liglit suddenly appears on Three Top Mountain. 
The '•'Call.") Ah! — the enemy's signal! {Enter Capt. Lock- 
wood, L. 3 'E.. , followed by Lieut, of Si&nal Corps.) Capt. Lock- 
wood! You are here! Are your Signalmen with you ? 

Lock. Yes, Colonel; and one of my Lieutenants. {The Lieut. 
is looking up at signal with glass. Capt. Lockwood does the same. 
Haverii-l otters l. 3 e., followed by two Staff Officers.) 

Haver. {As he enters up 1j. c.) Can you make anything of it, 
Captain ? 



36 SHENANDOAH. 

LoCKWOOD. Nothing, General! Our services are quite useless 
unless Lieut. Bedloe returns with the key to their signals. 

Haver. A — h! {Uomi/ig down L. c.) We shall fail. It is 
time he had returned, if successful. 

Sentinel. ( P^■^■^/i(??<^, L.) Halt! Who goes there ? {K^n. runs 
up stage c, and half way V2) incline, r. c, looking off l.) Halt! 
{A shot idthout, L.) 

Barket. {Without.) Och! — Ye murthern spalpeen! 

Ker. ( Up L. c.) Sentinel! Let him pass; it is Sergeant Barket. 

Sentinel. (M^7w»<.) Pass on. 

Ker. He didn't give the countersign. News from Lieutenant 
Bedloe, General! 

Barket. {Hurrying in, up slope, l.) Col. Wist, our brave byes 
wiped out the enemy, and here's the papers. 

Ker. Ah! {Taking papers. Then to LocK^yooT).) Is that the 
key ? 

Lock. Yes. Lieutenant! {hiEUT.Jiurriesup to elevation, looking 
through his glass. Lockwood opens book.) 

Haver. What of Lieut. Bedloe. Sergeant? 

Barket. Sayreously wounded, and in the hands of the inimy! 

Haver. {Sighing.) A — h! 

Barket. {Coming down stone steps ) It is repoted that Oapt. 
Heartsaze was shot dead at his side. 

Ker. Heartsease dead! {Moves down n. c.) 

Lieut, of Sign a^j CoRPi^. {Reading Signals.) Twelve — Twenty- 
two— Eleven. (12, 2311, 3.) 

Barket. Begorra! I forgot the Sintinil entirely, but he didn't 
forget me. {Holding his left arm.) 

Haver. Colonel West! We must make every possible sacri- 
fice for the immediate exchange of Lieut. Bedloe, if he is still liv- 
ing. It is due to him. Col. Robert Ellingham is a prisoner in this 
camp; offer him his own exchange for young Bedloe. 

Ker. He will accept, of course. I will ride to the front with 
him myself, General, and show him through the lines. 

Haver. At once! (Ker crosses front and e.vit on veranda, L. 2 
E. Haverill crosses R.) Can you follow the despatch, Captain ? 

Lock. Perfectly; everything is here. 

Haver. Well! 

Lieut, op Signal Corps. Eleven — Twenty-t wo — One— Twelve. 
(11, 22, 112, 3.) 

Lock. {From book.) '' General Longstreet is coming with " 

Haver. Limgstreet! 

Lieut, of Signal Corps. One — Twenty-one. (1, 21, 33.) 

Lock. "With eighteen thousand men." 

Haver. Longstreet and his corps! 

Lieut, of Signal Corps. Two — Eleven — Twenty-two. (211, 
22, 33.) 

Lock. " Sheridan is away! " 

Haver. They have discovered his absence! 

Lieut, of SioNAii Corps. Two— Twenty-two — Eleven — One 
—Twelve— One. (222, 11, 3, 112, 1, 333.) 

Lock. "We will crush the Union Army before he can return." 



SHENANDOAH. 87 

Haver. Signal that despatch from here to our Station at Front 
Royah (Pointing k.) Tell them to send it after General Sheri- 
dan — and ride for their lives. (Lockwood hurries out l. 3 E.) 
Major Burton! We will ride to General Wright's headquarters 
at once — our horses! (Moring up c. Noise of a struggle withmtt^ L.) 

Barket. {Looking l.) What the devil is the row out there? 
{Exit, L. 3. E. Also one of the Staf Officers.) 

Haver, (c, Looking off l.) What is this! Colonel West 
wounded! 

[Enter Kerchival West, l. 3 e., his coat tJirown open, with 
Ellingham, Barket assisting.] 

Ei,r-iNG, Steady, Kerchival, old boy! You should have let us 
carryyou. 

Ker. Nonsense, old fellow! It's a mere touch with the point 
of the knife. I — I'm faint — with the loss of a little blood — that's 

all. Bob!— I {Reels suddenly and is caught hy Ellingham as 

he sinks to the ground, insensible.) 
.Elling. Kerchival! {Kneeling at his side.) 

Haver. {Moving i..) Go for the Surgeon ! {To Staff Officer, who 
goes out quickly on reranda, l. 2. e.) How did this happen ? {En- 
ter Corporal Dttnn and Guard, l. 2 e., icitJi Thornton. He is 
in his shirt sleeves and disfieveled, his arms folded. They march 
down R.) Captain Thornton! 

Elling. We were leaving the house together; a hunted ani- 
mal sprang suddenly across our path, like a panther. {Looking 
oxer his shoulder.) there it stands. Kerchival! — my brother! 

Corp. Dunn. We had just brought this prisoner to bay, but 
I'm afraid we were too late. 

Haver. This is assassination, sir, not war. If you have killed 
him 

Thorn. Do what you like with me; we need waste no words. 
I had an old account to settle, and I have paid my debt. 

Elling. General Haverill! 1 took these from his breast when 
he first fell. {Ilanding up a-allet and miniature to Haverill. 
Haverill starts as he looks at the miniature. Thornton watches 
him.) 

Haver. {Aside.) My wife's portrait! 

Thorn. If I have killed him — your honor will be buried in 
the same grave. 

Haver. Her picture on his breast! She gave it to him — not to 
my son! {Dropping into seat, R. c. Capt. Lockwood enters witJi 
a Signidman, trho has a burning torch on a long pole; he hurries tip 
the ehration. Capt. Lockwood stands below, R. c, facing Mm. 
Almost simultaneously with the entrance ef the Signalman , Ger- 
trude Txins in on veranda, l. 2 E.) 

Gert. They are calling for a surgeon! Who is it? Brother! — 
you are safe, Ah! ( Uttering a scream, as she sees Kerchival, and 
falling on her knees at his side.) Kerchival! Forget those last 
bitter words I said to you. Can't you hear my confession ? I do 
love you. Can't you hear me? I love you! ' {The Signalman is 
sicinging the torch as the curtain descends, Lockwood looking R.) 
Curtain. 



38 SHENANDOAH. 

ACT III 



SCENE. — Same. It is now bright daylight^ with sunshine flecking 
the foreground and bathing the distant valley and mountains. 

DISCOVERED. — Jenny, on low stone post, c, looking l. As the 
curtain rises, she imitates I'rmnpet Signal No. 19 on her 
dosed fists. 

Jenny. What a magnificent line! (Looking x,.) Guides-posts! 
Every man and every horse is eager for the next command. 
There comes the flag! {Trumjiet Signal iritlioitt. No. ^0.) To the 
standard! {As the signal hegins.) The regiment is going to the 
front. Oh! I do wish I could go with it. I always do, the 
moment I hear the trumpets. Boots and saddles! {Imitates No. 
16.) Mount! {Imitates No. 37.) I wish I was in command of 
the regiment. It was born in me. ( Trrimpet Signal No. 4S, with- 
out.) Fours right! There they go! Lools at those horses' ears! 
{Trumpet Signal No. 39, without.) Forward. {Military hand 
heard without—'' ' The Battle Cry of Freedom. " (Jenny takes attitude 
of holding bridle and trotting.) Rappity — plap — plap — plap, etc. 
{She imitates the motions of a soldier on horse-hack, stepjnng down 
to i^ock at side of post; thence to ground and about stage, with the 
various curvetting s of «. spirited horse. Chorus of soldiers tmthout, 
R., tcith the band. The music hecomss more and more distant. 
Jenny gradually stops as the nmsic is dying away, and stands, 
listening. As it dies entirely away , she suddenly i^tarts to an enthusi- 
astic attitude.) Ah! If I were only a man! The enemy! On 
Third Battalion, left, front, into line, march! Draw sabres! 
Charge! {Imitates Trump)et Signal No. 4^. As she finishes, she rises 
to her full height, with both arms raised, and tremUing loith enthusi- 
asm ) Ah! {She suddenly d7-ops Jier arms cmd changes to an attittide 
andcrpression of disappointment — pouting.) And the first time Old 
Margery took me to papa, in her arms, she had to tell him I was a 
girl. Papa was as much disgusted as I was. But he'd never ad- 
mit it; he says I'm as good a soldier as any of 'em — just as I am. 
\_Enter Barket, l. 2 e., on veranda, his arm in a sling.] 

Barket. (On veranda.) Miss Jenny! 

Jenny'. Barket! The regiment has marched away to the 
front, and we girls are left here, with just you and a corporal's 
guard to look after us. 

Barket. I've been watching the byes mesilf. {Coming doion.) 
If a little milithary sugar-plum like you, Miss Jenny, objects to 
not goin' wid' em, what do you think of an ould piece of hard 
tack like me? I can't join the regiment till I've taken you and 
Miss Madeline back to Winchester, by your father's orders. But 
it isn't the first time I've escorted you, Miss Jenny. Many a time, 
when you was a baby, on the Plains, I commanded a special guard 
to accompany ye's from one fort to anither, and we gave the com- 
mand in a whisper, so as not to wake ye's up. 



SHENANDOAH. 39 

Jenny. I told you to tell pajm that I'd let him know when 
Madeline and I were ready to go. 

Bakket. I tould him that I'd as soon move a train of army 
mules. 

Jenny. I suppose we must start for home again to-day ? 

Bakket. Yes, Miss Jenny, in charge of an ould Sargeant wid 
his arm in a sling and a couple of convalescent throopers. This 
department of the United States Army will move to the rear in 
half an hour. 

Jenny. Madeline and I only came yesterday morning. 

Barket. Whin your father got ye's a pass to the front, we all 
thought the fightin' in the Sheuandoey Valley was over. It looks 
now as if it was just beginning. This is no place for women, now. 
Miss Gertrude Ellingham ought to go wid us, but she won't. 

Jenny. Barket! Captain Heartsease left the regiment yester- 
day, and he hasn't rejoined it; he isn't with them, now, at the 
head of his company. Where is he ? 

.Bakket. I can't say where he is. Miss Jenny. (Aside.) Lyin' 
unburied in the woods, where he was shot, I'm afraid. 

Jenny. When Captain Heartsease does rejoin the regiment, 
Barket (X.-ii/g i..), please say to him for me, that, — that I — I 
may have some orders for him, when we next meet. 

[Exit, L. 2 E., on veranda. 

Barket. W^hin they nixt mate. They tell us there is no such 
thing as marriage in Hiven. If Miss Jenny and Capt. Heartsease 
mate there, they'll invint somethin' that's mighty like it. While 
I was lyin' wounded in General Buckthorn's house at Washington, 
last summer, and ould Margery was taking care of me, Margery 
tould me, confidentially, that they was in love wid aitch ither; 
and I think she was about right. I've often seen Captain Hearts- 
ease take a sly look at a little lace handkerchief, just before we 
wint into battle. {Lools off L.) Here's General Buckthorn him- 
self. He and I must make it as aisy as we can for Miss Jenny's 
poor heart. 

[Enter General Buckthorn, l. 3 e.] 

Buck. Sergeant Barket! You haven't started with those girls 
yet? 

Barket. They're to go in half an hour, sir. 

Buck. Be sure they do go. Is General Haverill here ? 

Barket. Yes, sir; in the house with some of his staff, and the 
Surgeon. 

Buck. Ah! The Surgeon. How is Colonel West, this morn- 
ing, after the wound he received last night '? 

Barket. He says, himself, that he's as well as iver he was; 
but the Colonel and Surgeon don't agray on that subject. The 
dochter says he musn't lave his room for a month. The knife 
wint dape; and there's somethin' wrong inside of him. But the 
Colonel, bein' on the outside himsilf , can't see it. He's as cross as 
a bear, baycause they wouldn't let him go to the front this morn- 
ing, at the head of his regiment. I happened to raymark that the 
Chaplain was prayin' for his raycovery. The Colonel said he'd 



40 SHENANDOAH. 

court-martial him if he didn't stop that — quiclt ; there's more im- 
portant things for the Chaplain to pray for in his official capacity. 
Just at that moment the trumpets sounded, " Boots and Saddles." 
I had to dodge one of his boots, and the Surgeon had a narrow es- 
cape from the ither one. It was lucky for us both his saddle 
wasn't in the room. 

Buck. That looks encouraging. I think Kerchival will get on. 
{X.-ing-L) 

Barket. Might I say a word to you, sur, about Miss Jenny ? 

Buck. Certainly, Barket. You and old Margery and myself 
have been a sort of triangular mother, so to speak, to the little 
girl — {X.-iiig to him.) — since her own poor mother left her to our 
care, when she was only a baby, in the old fort on the Plains. 
{At his side and unconsciously resting his arm over Barket's 
shouldei\ familiarly. Suddenly draws up.) Ahem! {Tlien gruff- 
ly.) What is it V Proceed. 

Barket. Her mother's bosom would have been the softest 
place for her poor little head to rest upon, now, sur. 

Buck. ( Touching his eyes. ) Well! 

Barket. Ould Margery tould me in Washington that Miss 
Jenny and Captain Heartsease were in love wid aitch ither. 

BvcK. (Starting.) In love! 

Barket. I approved of the match. 

Buck. What the devil ! (Barket salutes quicMy and starts up 
stage and out Ij. Buck, 'moves tip after him; stops at post, R. c. 
Barket stops in road, l. c.) 

Barket. So did ould Margery. 

Buck. March! (Angrily. Barket salutes suddenly, and exit 
L. 3 e.) Heartsease! That young jackanapes! A mere fop; he'll 
never make a soldier. My girl in love with — bah! I don't believe 
it; she's too good a soldier, herself. 

\_Knter Haverill, l. 2 e., on veranda.] 
Ah, Haverill! 

Haver. Gen. Buckthorn! Have you heard anything of Gen. 
Sheridan since I sent that despatch to him last evening? 

Buck. He received it at midnight and sent back word that he 
considers it a ruse of the enemy. General Wright agrees with 
him. The reconnoissance yesterday showed no hostile force on 
our right, and Crook reports that Early is retreating up the valley. 
But Gen. Sheridan may, perhaps, give up his journey to Wash- 
ington, and he has ordered some changes in our line, to be ex- 
ecuted this afternoon at four o'clock. I rode over to give you 
your instructions in person. You may order Gen. MaCuen to go 
into camp on the right of Meadow Brook, with the second division. 
(Haverill is writing in his note-book.) 

[Enter Jenny, i.. 2 e., on veranda.] 

Jenny. Oh, papa! I'm so glad you've come. I've got some- 
thing to say to you. {Running down and jumping into Ids arms, 
kissing him. He turns 'with her, and sets her down, R. c, squarely 
on her feet and straight before him.) 

Buck. And I've got something to say to you — about Captain 
Heartsease. 



SHENANDOAH. 41 

Jekky. Oh! That's just what I wanted to talk about. 

Buck. Fall in! Front face! (She jumps into military position^ 
turning towards liim.) What's this I hear from Sergeant Barket? 
He says you've been falling in love. 

Jenny. 1 have. {Saluting.) 

Buck. Young woman! Listen to my orders. Fall out! 
{2\irns sharjdy and marches to Haverii.l.) Order the Third 
Brigade of Cavalry, under Col. Lowell, to occupy the left of the 
pike. 

Jenny. Papa! {Running to him and seizing the tail of Ms coat.) 
Papa, dear! 

Btick. Close in Col. Powell on the extreme left — {slapping his 
coat-tails out 0/ Jenny's hands, without looking aronnd) — and hold 
Custer on the second line, at Old Forge Road. That is all at 
present. {Turns to Jei^ny.) Good bye, my darling! {Kisses her.) 
Remember your orders! You little pet! {Chnckiing, as he taps 
her chin; draws up suddenly; turns to Haverill.) General! I 
bid. you good-day. 

Haver. Good-day, Gen. Buckthorn. {They salute icith great 
dignity. Buck, starts vp stage; Jenny S2}rings after him, seizing 
his coat-tails.) 

Jenny. But I want to talk with you, papa; I can't fall out. 
I — I — haven't finished yet. {Etc., clinging to his coat, as Buck 
marches out rapidly, 1j. 3 e., in road, holding back loith all her 
might.) 

Haver. It may have been a ruse of the enemy, but I hope 
that Gen. Sheridan has turned back from Washington. {Moving 
L., looking at his note-hook.) We are to make changes in our line- 
at four o'clock this afternoon. {Returns hook to pocket and stands 
in thought. ) The Surgeon tells me that Kerchival West will get 
on well enough if he remains quiet; otherwise not. He shall not 
die by the hand of a common assassin; he has no right to die like 
that. My wife gave my own picture of herself to him — not to my 
son — and she looked so like an angel when she took it from my 
hand! They were both false to me, and they have been true to 
each other. I will save his life for myself. 

{Enter Gertrude, l. 2 e., on, veranda.] 

Gert. Gen. Haverill! (Anxiously, coming down.) Col. West 
persists in disobeying the injunctions of the Surgeon. He is pre- 
paring to join his regiment at the front. Give him your orders to 
remain here. Compel him to be prudent! 

Haver. (Quickly.) The honor of death at the front is not in re- 
serve for him. 

Gert. Eh ? What did you say, General ? 

H.\VEi{. Gertrude! I wish to speak to you, as your father's 
old friend; and I was once your guardian. Your father was my 
senior officer in the Mexican War. Without his care I should 
have been left dead in a foreign land. He, himself, afterwards 
fell fighting for the old flag. 

Gert. The old flag. (Aside.) My father died for it, and he — 
{looking u.) — is suffering for it — the old flag! 



42 SHENANDOAH. 

Haver. I can now return the kindness your father did to me, 
by protecting his daughter from something that may be worse 
than death. 

Gert. What do you mean ? 

Haver. Last night I saw you kneeling at the side of Kerchi- 
val West; you spoke to him with all the tender passion of a 
Southern woman. You said you loved him. But you spoke into 
ears that could not hear you. Has he ever heard those words 
from your lips ? Have you ever confessed your love to him be- 
fore? 

Gert. Never. Why do you ask? 

Haver. Do not repeat those words. Keep your heart to your- 
self, my girl. 

Gert. General! Why do you say this lo me? And at such a 
moment — when his life 

Haver. His life! {Turning sharply.) It belongs to me! 

Gert. — Oh! 

Ker. Sergeant! [WitJiout. He steps in, l. 3 e., in road, 
looking hack. Gertrude X. -s up l. c. Haverill comes doion r.) 
See that my horse is ready at once. General! (Saluting.) Are 
there any orders for my regiment beyond those given to Major 
Wilson, in my absence, this morning ? I am about to ride on after 
the troops and re-assume my command. 

Haver. (Quietly.) It is my wish, Colonel, that you remain here 
under the care of the Surgeon. 

Ker. My wound is a mere trifle. This may be a critical 
moment in the campaign, and I cannot rest here. I must be with 
my own men. 

Haver. (Quietly.) I beg to repeat the wish I have already ex- 
pressed. (Kerchival walks to him, and speaks apart, almost 
under his breath, but very earnest in tone. ) 

Ker. I have had no opportunity, yet, to explain certain mat- 
ters, as you requested me to do yesterday ; but whatever there may 
be between us, you are now interfering with my duty and my 
privilege as a soldier; and it is my right to be at the head of my 
regiment. 

Haver. (Quietly.) It is my positive order that you do not re- 
assume your command. 

Ker. General Haverill, I protest against this 

Haver. (Quietly.) You are under arrest, sir. 

Ker. Arrest! 

Gert. Ah! (Ker. unclasps his belt and offers his sioord to 
Haver.) 

Haver. (Quietly.) Keep your sword; I have no desire to humil- 
iate you; but hold yourself subject to further orders from me. 
(Ker. moves l. and goes tip veranda.) 

Ker. (X.-ing l. to veranda.) My regiment at the front! — and I 
under arrest! [Exit L. 3 E. 

Haver. Gertrude! If your heart refuses to be silent— if you 
feel that you must confess your love to that man — first tell him 
what I have said to you, and refer him to me for an explanation. 

[Exit up c. and out L. 3 E., in road. 



SHENANDOAH. 43 

Gert. {X.-ing R. c.) What can he mean? He would save me 
from something worse than death, he said. " His life — It belongs 
to mel " What can he mean '? Kerchival told me that he loved 
me — it seems many years since that morning in Charleston — and 
when we met again, yesterday, he said that he had never ceased 
to love me. I will not believe that he has told me a falsehood. I 
have given him my love, my whole soul and my faith. {Drawing 
up to her full height.) My perfect faith! (Jenny runs in, l. 3 e., 
in road., and up the slope, R. c. 8]ie looks down the hill, up l. 
Jenny enters.) 

Jenny. A flag of truce, Gertrude. And a party of Confederate 
soldiers, with an escort, coming up the hill. They are carrying 
someone; he is wounded. 

[Enter, l. 4 e., up the slope., a Lieutenant of Infantry with an 
escort of Union Soldiers, their arms at right shoulder^ and a party 
of Confederate Soldiers hearing a, rustic stretcher. Lieutenant 
Frank Bedloe lies on the stretcher. Ma.tor Hardwick, a Con- 
federate Surgeon, walks a this side. Madeline appears at v^ randa, 
from L. 2 E , watching them.. Jenny moves down l. Gertrude 
stands with her back to audience, down r. 7'he Lieutenant gives 
orders in a low tone, and the front escort moves to ii., in road. 
The Confederate bearers and the Surgeon pass through the gate, c. 
The rear escort moves to l. c, in road, under Lieutenant's orders. 
Thebearershalt, front; on a sign from the Surgeon, leave thestretcher 
on the ground, stepping back, li. & u.) 
Ma.i. Hard. Is General Haverill here? 
Gert. Yes; what can we do, sir? 

Mad. The General is just about mounting with his staff, to 
ride away. Shall I go for him, sir ? 

Ma.t. Say to him, please, that Colonel Robert Ellingham, of 
the Tenth Virginia, sends his respects and sympathy. He in- 
structed me to bring this young officer to this point, in exchange 
for himself, as agreed upon between them last evening. 

[Exit Madeline, l. 2. e. 
Jenny. Is he unconscious or sleeping, sir? 
Ma.t. Hovering between life and death. I thought he would 
bear the removal better. He is waking. Here, my lad! {Plac- 
ing his canteen to the lips of Frank, w7io moves, reviving.) We 
have reached the end of our journey. 
Frank. My father! 

Ma.t. He is thinking of his home. (Frank rises on one arm, 
assisted by the Surgeon.) 

Frank. I have obeyed Gen. Haverill's orders, and I have a re- 
port to make. 

Gert. We have already sent for him. {Stepping to him.) He 
will be here in a moment. 

Frank. {Looking into her face, brightly.) Is not this — Miss — 
Gertrude Ellingham ? 
Gert. You know me ? You have seen me before ? 
Frank. Long ago ! Long ago ! You know the wife of 
General Haverill? 
Gert. I have no dearer friend in the world. 



44 SHENANDOAH. 

Frank. She will give a message for me to the dearest friend 
/ have in the world. My little wife ! I must not waste even the 
moment we are waiting. Doctor! My note-book! {Trying to 
get it from his coat. The Surgeon takes it out. A torn and blood- 
stained lace handkercliief also falls out. Gert. kneels at his side.) 
Ah ! I — I — have a message from another — (Holding up hand- 
kercliief.) — from Capt. Heartsease. {JEN:sy makes a quick start 
towards him.) He lay at my side in the hospital, when they 
brought me away ; he had only strength enough to put this iix 
my hand, and he spoke a woman's name ; but I — I — forgot what 
it is. The red spots upon it are the only message he sent. 
(Gert. takes t?ie handkerchief and looks back at J EimY, e,vtending 
her hand. J knny moves to her, takes the handkerchief and turns 
back, L., looking down on it. She drops her face into her ?iands 
and goes out sobbing, l. 2 e., on veranda.) 

[Enter Madeline on veranda, l. 3 e.] 

Mad. General Haverill is coming. I was just in time. He 
was already on his horse. 

Frank. Ah! He is coming. {Then suddenly.) Write! 
Write! (Gert. irrites in the 7,ote-book as he dictates.) ''To — 
my wife — Edith : — Tell our little son, when he is old enough to 
know — how his father died ; not how he lived. And tell her who 
filled my own mother's place so lovingly — she is your mother, too 
— that my father's portrait of her, which she gave to me in 
Charleston, helped me to be a better man ! " And — Oh ! I must 
not forget this — "It was taken away from me while I was a 
prisoner in Richmond, and it is in the possession of Capt. Henry 
Thornton, of the Confederate Secret Service. But her face is 
still beside your own in my heart. My best — warmest, last — love 
— to you, darling." I will sign it. (Gert. holds the book, and he 
signs it, then sinks back very quietly, supported by the Surgeon. 
Gert. rises and walks R. ) 

Mad. Gen. Haverill is here. {The Surgeon lays the fold of tJie 
blanket over Frank's face and rises.) 

Gert. Doctor ! 

Maj. He is dead. (Madeline, on veranda, turns and looks L. 
T'he Lieutenemt orders the guard, "'Present Arms." Enter 
Haverill, l. 3 e., on veranda. He salutes the guard as he 
passes. The Lieutenant orders, " Carry Arms." Haverill 
comes down l. c.) 

Haver. I am too late ? 

Maj. I'm sorry. General. His one eager thought as we came 
was to reach here in time to see you. (Haverill moves to the 
bier, looks down at it, then folds back the blanket from the face. 
He .starts slightly as he first sees it.) 

Haver. The brave boy ! I hoped once to have a son like you. 
I shall be in your father's place, to-day, at your grave. {He 
replaces the blanket and steps back, l. c.) We will carry him to 
his comrades in the front. He shall have a soldier's burial, in 
sight of the mountain-top beneath which he sacrificed his young 
life ; that shall be his monument. 



SHENANDOAH. 49 

Ma.i. Pardon me, General. We Virginians are your enemies, 
but you cannot honor this young soldier more than we do. Will 
you allow my men the privilege of carrying him to his grave? 
(Haverill inclines his head. The Surgeon motions to the Con- 
federate Soldiers, iclio step to the bier and raise it gently.) 

Haver. Lieutenant! ( The Lieutenant orders the guard, '''Left 
Face." The Confederate bearers move through the gate, preceded 
by Lieutenant Hardwick. Haverill draws his sword, re- 
versesit, and moves up behind the bier with bowed head. The Lieu- 
tenant orders '■'Forward March," and the cortege disappears. 
While the girls are still ivntcJdng it, the heavy sound of distant 
artillery is heard, with booming reverberations among the hills and 
in the valley. ) 

Mad. What is that sound, Gertrude ? 

Gert. Listen! (Another and more 2irolonged distant sound, 
with long reverberations.) 

Mad. Again! Gertrude! {(jEm . raises her Jiand to command 
silejice; listens. Distant cannon again.) 

Gert. It is the opening of a battle. 

Mad. Ah! {Running doivn stage, L. c. The sounds again. 
Prolonged rumble.) 

Gert. How often have I heard that sound! {Coming down R.) 
This is war, Madeline! You are face to face with it now. 

Mad. And Robert is there ! He may be in the thickest of the 
danger — at this very moment. 

Gert. Yes. Let our prayers go up for him; mine do, with 
all a sister's heart. (Ker. enters on veranda, L. 2 E., without coat 
or vest, his sash about his tcaist, looking back as lie comes in.) 
Kerchival ! 
^^..^iiER. Go on I Go on I Keep the battle to yourselves. I'm 
""out of it. {The distant cannon and reverberations rising in vol- 
ume. Prolonged and distant rumble.) 

Mad. (l. c.) I pray for Robert Ellingham — and ior ihe cause 
in which he ri.sks his life ! (Ker. looks at her, suddenly ; also 
Gert.) Heaven forgive me if I am wrong, but I am praying for 
the enemies of my country. His people are my people, his ene- 
mies are my enemies. Heaven defend him and his, in this awful 
hour. 

Ker. Madeline ! My sister ! 

Mad. Oh, Kerchival! {Turning and dropping her face on 
his breast.) I cannot help it — I cannot help it ! 

Ker. My poor girl ! Every woman's heart, the world over, 
. belongs not to any country or any flag, but to her husband — and 
her lover. Pray for the man you love, sister — it would be treason 
not to. {Passes her before him to Ij. Looks across to GKm.) Am 
I right? {Ge-rt. drops her head. Mad. moves up veranda and 
out, K. 2 e.) Is what I have just said to Madeline true ? 

Gert. Yes! {Looks up.) Kerchival! 

Ker. Gertrude! (Hurries across to her, clasps her in his arms. 
He suddenly staggers and brings his hand to his breast.) 

Geht. Your wound! {Supporting him as he reels and sinks 
into seat, R. c) 



46 SHENANDOAH. 

Ker. Wound! I liave no wound! You do love me! {Seizing 
her hand. ) 

Gert. Let me call the Surgeon, Kerchival. 

Ker. You can be of more service to me than he can. {Detain- 
ing her. Very Iteavy sounds of the battle; she starts, listenirig.) 
Never mind that ! It's only a battle. You love me! 

Gert. Be quiet, Kerchival, dear. I do love you. I told you 
so, when you lay bleeding here, last night. But you could not 
hear me. {At his side., resting her arm about him, stroking his 
head.) I said that same thing to — to — another, more than three 
years ago. It is in that letter that General Buckthorn gave you. 
(Ker. starts.) No — no — you must be very quiet, or 1 will not say 
another word. If you obey me, I will repeat that part of the let- 
ter, every word; I know it by heart, for I read it a dozen times. 
The letter is from Mrs. Haverill. 

Keh. {Quietly.) Goon. 

Gert. " I have kept your secret, my darling, but I was sorely 
tempted to betray the confidence you reposed in me at Charleston. 
If Kerchival West — {she rf fires backward from him, as she pro- 
ceeds) — had heard you say, as I did, when your face was hidden in 
my bosom, that night, that you loved him with your whole 
heart " 

Ker. Ah! {Starting to his feet. He sinks back. She springs 
to support him.) 

Gert. I will go for help. 

Ker. Do not leave me at such a moment as this. You have 
brought me a new life. {Britiging her to her knees before him and 
looking down at her.) Heaven is just opening before me. {His 
hands drop suddenly and his head falls back. Battle.) 

Gert. Ah I Kerchival ! You are dying ! {Mu.sketry. A sud- 
den sharp burst of musketry, mingled with the roar of artillery near 
by R. Kerchival starts, seizing Gertrude's arm and holding 
her away, R., still on her knees. He looks eagerly, L.) 

Ker. The enemy is close upon us ! 

[Barket runs in, up the slope, l. 4 e.] 

Barket. Colonel Wist ! The devils have sprung out of the 
ground. They're pouring over our lift plank like Noah's own 
flood. The Union Army has started back for Winchester, on its 
way to the North Pole ; our own rigiment, Colonel, is coming 
over the hill in full retrate. 

Ker. My own regiment! {Starting up.) Get my horse, Bar- 
ket. {Turns.) Gertrude, my life! (£'w6racfs Gertrude.) 

Barket. Your horse is it? I'm wid ye! There's a row at 
Finnegan's ball, and we're in it. {Springs to road, l. c, and out, 

L. 3 E.) 

Ker. {Turns away. Stops.) I am under arrest. {Retreat. 
Fugitives begin to straggle across stage from L. 3 e.) 

Gert. You must not go, Kerchival; it will kill you. 

Ker. Arrest be damned! {Starts up c, raises his arms above 
his head with clenched fist, rising to full height.) Stand out of my 
way, you cowards! {Thty coicer away from him as he rushes out 



SHENANDOAH. 47 

among them, Ij. 3. e. The stream offugitices passing across stage 
swells in volvme. Gertrude runs through them and up to the 
eleration, turning.) 

Ueut. Men! Are you soldiers? Turn back! There is a 
leader for you! Turnback! Fight for your flag — and mine; the 
flag my father died for! Turn back! [She looks out l. and turns 
front.) He has been marked for death already, and I — I only can 
pray. {Dropping to her knees.) 

( The stream of fugitives continues, now over the elevation also. 
Rough and torn uniforms, handaged arms and legs; some limping 
and supported by others, some dragging their muskets after 
them, others without muskets, others using them as crutches. 
Variety of uniforms, cavalry, infantry, etc.; flags draggled on the 
ground, the rattle of near musketry and roar of cannon continue; 
two or three wounded fugitives drop down beside the hedge. Benson 
staggers in ((nd drops upon rock or stumps near post, c. Artiller- 
ists, rough, torn and wounded, drag and force a field-piece across. 
Corporal Dunn, wounded, staggers to the top of elevation. There 
is a lull in the sounds of the battle. Distant cheers are heard with- 
out, R.) 

Dunn. Listen, fellows ! Stop ! Listen ! Sheridan ! General 
Sheridan is coming ! {Cheers from those on stage. Gertrude 
rises quickly. The wounded soldiers rise, looking over hedge. All 
on stage stop, looking 'l., eagerly. The cheers without come nearer, 
with shouts of ""Sheridan ! Sheridan ! ") The horse is down ; he 
is worn out. 

Gert. No ! He is up again ! He is on my Jack ! Now, for 
your life, Jack, and for me ! You've never failed me yet. {The 
cheers without now swell to full volume and are taken up by those on 
the stage. The horse siceeps by with Oeneral Sheridan.) Jack ! 
Jack ! ! Jack ! ! ! {Waving her arms as lie passes. She throws up 
her arms and falls backward, caught by Dunn. The stream of 
men is reversed and surges across stage to l., in road and on eleva- 
tion, with shouts, throwing up hats, etc. The field-piece is forced up 
the slope with a few bold, rough movements ; the artillerists are 
loading it, and the stream of returning fugitives are still surging by 
in the road as the curtain falls.) 

Curtain. 



SHENANDOAH. 



ACT lY. 



SCE'i^E.—Besidence of General Buckthorn, in Washington. 
Interior. Fireplace danting upward from L. c. to c. Small 
alcove up R. c. Opening to hall up l. c, uith staircase heyond, 
and also entrance from out l. Door up n. A idde opening, 
with portieres, l. 2 e., to apartment. Upright piano down r. 
Armchair and loip stool before fireplace, c. Small ^-^hle up 
L. C^for tea, etc. Ottoman, R. c. Other chairs, ottomt .s &c., 
to taste. 

IIUY,.— Afternoon. 

DISCOVERED. — Mrs. Haverill, in armchair, resting her face 
upon her hand, and looking into the fire. Edith is on a low 
stool at her side, sewing a child's garment. 

Edith. — Tt seems hardly possible that the war is over, and that 
General Lee has really surrendered. {Fife and drum, without.) 
There is music in the streets nearly all the time, now, and every- 
body looks so cheerful and bright. (Distant fife and drums heard 
playing "Johnnie Comes Marching Rome." Edith springs up and 
runs up to window, looking out.) More troops returning! The old, 
tattered battle-flag is waving in the wind, and people are running 
after them so merrily. {Music sto]}s.) Every day, now, seems 
like a holiday. {Coming down.) The war is over. All the 
women ought to feel very happy, whose — whose husbands are — 
coming back to them. 

Mrs. H. Yes, Edith; those women whose — husbands are com- 
ing back to them. {Still looking into fire. ) 

Edith. Oh! {Dropping \ipon the stool, her head upon the arm 
of the chair.) 

Mrs. H. {Resting Jier arm over Jier.) My poor, little darling! 
Tour husband will not come back. 

Edith. Frank's last message has never reached me. 

Mrs. H. No ; but you have one sweet thought always with 
you. Madeline West heard part of it, as Gertrude wrote it down. 
His last thought was a loving one, of you. 

Edith. Madeline says that he was thinking of you, too. He 
knew that you were taking such loving care of his little one, and 
of me. You have always done that, since you first came back 
from Charleston, and found me alone in New York. 

Mrs. H. 1 found a dear, sweet little daughter. {Stroking her 
Jiead) Heaven sent you, darling ! You have been a blessing to 
me. I hardly know how I should have got through the past few 
months at all without you at my side. 

Edith. What is your own trouble, dear? I have founr _^ou 
in tears so often ; and since last October, after the battle if 



SHENANDOAH. 49 

Cedar Creek, you — you have never shown me a letter from — from 
my — Frank's father. General Haverill arrived in Washington 
yesterday, but has not been here yet. Is it because I am here? 
He has never seen me, and I feel that he never has forgiven 
Frank for marrying me. 

Mrs. H. Nonsense, my child ; he did think the marriage was 
imprudent, but he told me to do everything I could for you. If 
General Haverill has not been to see either of us, since his 
arrival in Washington, it is nothing that you need to worry your 
dear little head about. How are you getting on with your son's 
wardrobe '? 

Edit . Oh ! Splendidly ! Frankie isn't a baby any longer ; 
he's a 1 lan, now, and he has to have a man's clothing ! {Holding 
lip (I hUlc p"ir of trousers, icifh nmferniil pride.) He's rather 
young to be dressed like a man, but I want Frank to grow up as 
soo;. *s possible. I long to have him old enough to understand 
me when I repeat to him the words in which General Haverill 
told the whole world how his father died! {Rising.) And yet, 
even in his official report to the Government, he only honored 
him as Lieutenant Bedloe. He has never forgiven his son for 
the disgrace be brought upon his name. 

Mrs. H. I know him so wt'W— {Rising.) — the unyielding pride, 
that conquers even the deep tenderness of his nature. He can 
be silent, though his own heart is breaking. {Aside.) He can be 
silent, too, though my heart is breaking. {Dropping her face in 
her hand.) 

Edith. Mother ! {Putting her arm about her.) 

[£■?/<«?' J ANNETTE, L. C] 

Jan. a letter for you. Madam. 

Mrs. H. {Taking note. Aside.) He has answered me. {Op>ens 
and reads; inclines her head to Jannette, who goes out, l. c, to 
hMl. Aloud.) General Haverill will be here this afternoon, 
Edith. [^Exit l. c, and up the stairs. 

Edith. There is something that she cannot confide to me, or 
to anyone. General Haverill returned to Washington yesterday, 
and he has not been here yet. He will be here to day. I always 
tremble when I think of meeting him. 

[General Buckthorn appears in hall, l. c] 

Buck. Come right in ; this way, Barket. Ah, Edith ! 

Barket. {Entering, l. c.) As I was saying, sur — just after 
the battle of Sayder Creek began (i,. c.) 

Buck. {To Edith.) More good news! The war is, indeed, 
over, now ! 

B.\I{KET. Whin Colonel Wist rode to the front to mate his 
raytrating rigiment 

Bucii. General Johnston has surrended his army, also ; and 
that, of course, does end the war. 

Edith. I'm very glad that all the fighting is over. 

Buck. So am I; but my occupation, and old Barket's, too, is 
gonei 'Always at work on new clothes for our little soldier? 

I/DITH. He's growing so, I can hardly make them fast 



60 SHENANDOAH. 

enough for him. But this is the time for his afternoon nap, I 
must go now, to see if he is sleeping soundly. 

Buck. Our dear little mother ! (Tajyjnng Iter c/iin.) I always 
claim the privilege of my white hair, you know. {S/a' puts vp 
her lips; he kisses her. hJie goes out, R.) The sweetest young 
widow I ever saw! (Barket eoughs. QucTS. turns sharply; 
Bakket salutes.) Well! What the devil are you thinking about 
now? 

Barket. (c.) The ould time, sur. Yer honor used to claim 
the same privilege for brown hair. 

Buck, (c.) You old rascal ! What a memory you have ! 
You were telling me for the hundredth time about the battle of 
Cedar Creek; go on. I can never hear it often enough. Ker- 
chival West was a favorite of mine, poor fellow ! 

Barket. Just afther the battle of Sayder Creek began, when 
the Colonel rode to the front to mate his raytrating rigiment 

Buck. I'll tell Old Margery to bring in tea for both of us, 
Barket. 

Bakket. For both of us, sur ? 

Buck. Yes ; and later in the evening we'll have somethings 
else, together. This is a great day for all of us. I'm not your 
commander to-day, but your old comrade in arms — {Laying his 
arm orer Barket's shoulde)'.) — and I'm glad I don't have to pull 
myself up now every time I forget my dignity. Ah! you and I 
will be laid away before long, but we'll be together again in the 
next world, won't we, Barket '! 

Barket. Wid yer honor's permission. (Saluting.) 

Buck. Ha — ha — ha! (Laug/iing.) If we do meet there, I'm 
certain you'll salute me as your superior officer. There's old 
Margery, now. {Looking 'l. to doov. Galls.) Margery! Tea for 
two! 

Margery. {Without, r.) The tay be waiting for ye, sur ; and 
it be boilin' over wid impatience. 

Buck. Bring up a chair, Barket. (Sitting in arm-chair, C) 

Barket. (Ua ring placed, table and drairing up a chair.) Do 
you know, Gineral, I don't fale quite aisy in my moind. I'm 
not quite sure that Margery will let us take our tay together. 
(Sits do (Pn, douhtfidly.) 

Buck. I hadn't thought of that. l—(Olaucing R.)— I hope she 
will, Barket. But, of course, if she won't — she's been com- 
mander-in-chief of my household ever since Jenny was a baby. 

Barket. At Fort Duncan, in Texas. 

Buck. You and Old Margery never got along very well in 
those days ; but I thought you had made it all up ; she nursed 
you through your wound, last summer, and after the battle of 
Cedar Creek, also. 

Barket. Yis, sur, bliss her kind heart, she's been like a wife 
to me ; and that's the trouble. A man's wife is such an angel 
when he's ill that he dreads to get well ; good health is a mis- 
fortune to him. Auld Margery and I have had anither misun- 
dershtanding. 



SHENANDOAH. 51 

Buck. I'll do the best I can for both of us, Barket. You were 
telling me about the battle of 

BAiiKET. Just afther the battle of Sayder Creek began, whin 
Colonel Wist rode to the front to mate his raytrating rigiment 

{Enter Old Margery, r., trdy, tea, dr. She stops (thrnptly, 
R. c, looking at Barket. He squirms in Ms chair. Buckthorn 
rises and stands with his hack to the mantel. Old Margery moves 
to the table, arranges things on it, glances at Bar., then at Buck., 
icho looks up at ceiling, rubbing Ids chin, dc. Old Margery takes 
up one of the cups, trith saucer.) 

Old Marg. I misunderstood yer order, sur. I see there's no 
one here but yerself. {Going u.) 

Buck. Ah, Margery! {She stops, R. c.) Barket tells me that 
there has been a slight misunderstanding between you and him. 

Old Marg Day before yisterday, the ould Hibernian dhrone 
had the kitchen upside down, to show anither ould milithary 
vagabone loike himself how the battle of Sayder Creek was fought. 
H-e knocked the crame pitcher into the basket of clane clothes, 
and overturned some raspberry jam and the Hat-irons into a pan of 
fresh eggs. There has been a misundershtanding betwane us. 

Buck. I see there has. I suppose Barket was showing his 
friend how Colonel Kerchival West rode forward to meet his 
regiment, when he was already wounded dangerously. 

Old Marg. Bliss the poor, dear young man ! He and I was 
always good frinds, though he was somethin' of a devil in the 
kitchen himself, whin he got there. {Wiping her eye zcith one 
corner of her apron.) And bliss the young Southern lady that 
was in love wid him, too. {Changing the cvp (did wiping the other 
eye with the corner of her apron.) Nothing was iver heard of 
ayther of thim afther that battle was over, to this very day. 

Buck. Barket was at Kerchival's side when he rode to the front. 
(Old Margery hesitates a, moment, then vioves to the table, setsdotcn 
the cup and marches out, R. Buck, sits in the arm-chair again, 
pouring ft a.) I could always find some way to get Old Margery 
to do what I wanted her to do. 

Barket. You're a great man, Ginerel ; we'd niver have con- 
quered the South widout such men. 

Buck. Now go on, Barket ; you were interrupted. 

Barket. Just afther the battle of Sayder Creek began, 
whin 

[Enter Jannette, l. c, tcith card, which she hands to Buck.] 

Buck. {Reading card.) Robert Ellingham ! {Rises.) I will 
go to him. (J'i'y Jan.) You go upstairs and tell Madeline to come 
down. 

Jannette. Yes, sir. {Going.) 

Buck. And, Jannette, simply say there is a caller; don't tell 
her who is here. {E.rit Jan., L. c. and upstairs. Bvcis.. follows 
her out to htill.) Ellingham ! My dear fellow ! {Extending his 
hand and disappearing, L.) 

Barket. Colonel Ellingham and Miss Madeline — lovers ! 
That's the kind o' volunteers the country nades now ! 



58 SHENANDOAH. 

{Enter Buckthorn and Ellingham, l. c] 

Buck. {As he enters.) We've been fighting four years to keep 
you out of Washington, Colonel, but we are delighted to see you 
within the lines, now. 

Elling. I am glad, indeed, General, to have so warm a wel- 
come. But can you tell me anything about my sister, Gertrude ? 

Buck. About your sister? Why, can't you tell us? And have 
you heard nothing of Kerchival West on your side of the line? 

Elling. All I can tell you is this: As soon as possible after 
our surrender at Appomatox, I made my way to the Shenandoah 
Valley. Our home there is utterly deserted. I have hurried 
down to Washington in the hopes that I might learn something of 
you. There is no human being about the old homstead; it is like 
a haunted house — empty, and dark, and solitary. You do not 
even know where Gertrude is? 

Buck. We only know that Kerchival was not found among the 
dead of his own regiment at Cedar Creek, though he fell among 
them during the fight. The three girls searched the field for him, 
but he was not there. As darkness came on, and they were re- 
turning to the house, Gertrude suddenly seized the bridle of a 
stray horse, sprang upon its back and rode away to the South, 
into the woods at the foot of Three Top Mountain. The other two 
girls watched for her in vain. She did not return, and we have 
heard nothing from her since. 

Elling. Poor girl! I understand what was in her thoughts, 
and she was right. We captured fourteen hundred prisoners that 
day, although we were defeated, and Kerchival must have been 
among them. Gertrude rode away, alone, in the darkness, to find 
him. I shall return to the South at once and learn where she now 
is. 

[J ANNETTE luis entered, down the stairs, L. c] 

Jannette. Miss Madeline will be down in a moment. 

[Exit in hall., L. 

Barket. {Aside., up c.) That name wint through his chist like 
a rifle ball. 

Buck. Will you step into the drawing room, Colonel? I will 
see Madeline myself, first. She does not even know that you are 
living, 

Elling. I hardly dared ask for her. {Passiny ; turns.) Is 
she well ? 

Buck. Yes ; and happy — or soon will be. 

Elling. Peace, at last ! {Exit, L. 2 e., to apartment. Buck. 
clo.ses portieres ) 

Buck. I ought to prepare Madeline a little, Barket ; you must 
help me. 

Barket. Yis, sur, I will. 

[Enter Madeline, l. c, doir^n the stairs.] 

Madeline. Uncle I Jannette said you wished to see me; 
there is a visitor here. Who is it? 
Barket. Colonel Robert Ellingham. 



SHENANDOAH. 53 

Mad. Ah ! {Staggering.) 

Buck. {Supporting her.) You infernal idiot ! I'll put you in 
the guard-house ! 

Babket. You wanted me to help je, Gineral. 

Mad. Robert is alive — and here? {Ridng from Ms arms., she 
moves to the portieres^ holcJs them iiside., peeping in ; gives a joyful 
start, tosses aside f/te portieres emd runs through.) 

BtJCK. Barket ! There's nothing but that curtain between us 
and Heaven. 

Babket. I don't fale like stayin' out o' Hiven, mysilf, sur. 
Gineral ! I'll kiss Ould Margery — if I die for it! \^Emt R. 

Buck. Kiss Old Margery ! I'll give him a soldier's funeral. 
{Walking b. Enter Jenny, l. c.^froin Jtall, L. c, demurely.) Ah ! 
Jenny, my dear ! I have news for you. Colonel Robert Elling- 
ham is in the drawing-room. 

Jenny. Oh ! I am delighted. {Starting L.) 

Buck. A-h-e-m ! 

Jen. Oh ! — exactly. I see. I have some news for you, papa. 
Captain Heartsease has arrived in Washington. 

Buck. Oh ! My dear ! I have often confessed to you how 
utterly mistaken 1 was about that young man. He is a soldier 
— as good a soldier as you are. I'll ask him to the house. 

Jen. {Demurely.) He is here now. 

Buck. Now ? 

Jen. He's been here an hour; in the library. 

Buck. Why ! Barket and I were in the library fifteen 
minutes ago. 

Jen. Yes, sir. We were in the bay-window; the curtains 
were closed. 

Buck. Oh ! exactly ; I see. You may tell him he has my full 
consent. 

Jen. He hasn't asked for it. 

Buck. Hasn't he? And you've been in the bay-window an 
hour? Well, my darling — I was considered one of the best Indian 
fighters in the old army, but it took me four years to propose to 
your mother. I'll go and see the Captain. [Exit, l. c, to hall, L. 

Jen. I wonder if it will take Captain Heartsease four years to 
propose to me. Before he left Washington, nearly two years ago, 
he told everybody in the circle of my acquaintance, except me, 
that he was in love with me. I'll be an old lady in caps before 
our engagement commences. Poor, dear mother! The idea of a 
girl's waiting four years for a chance to say, "Yes." It's been on 
the tip of my tongue so often, I'm afraid it'll pop out, at last, 
before he pops the question. 

[Enter Buck, and Heartsease, l. c.,from hall.] 

Buck. Walk right in, Captain; this is the family room. You 
must make yourself quite at home here. 

Heabtsease. Thank you. {Walking doirrfR.) 

Buck, My dear! {Apart to Jenny.) The very first thing he 
said to me, after our greeting, was that he loved my daughter. 

Jen. Now he's told my father ! 



54 SHENANDOAH. 

Buck. He's on fire ! 

Jen. Is lie? {Looking at 'BlEAHts^ase, iclio stands quietly, u., 
stroking Ms mustache.) Why doesn't be tell me? 

Buck. You may have to lielp liim a little; your mother assisted 
me. (Turning up c.) When you and Jenny finish your chat, 
Captain — {Lighting a cigar at the mantel.) — you must join me in 
the smoking room. 

Heart. I shall be delighted. By the way, General — I have 
been in such a fever of excitement since I arrived at this 
bouse 

Jen. {Aside.) Fever? Chills! 

Heart. That I forgot it entirely. I have omitted a very 
important and a very sad commission. I have brought vrith me 
the note-book of Lieutenant Frank Bedloe — otherwise Haverill — 
in whicb Miss Gertrude Ellingham wrote down his last message 
to bis young wife. 

Jen. Have you seen Gertrude ? 

Buck. ( Taking book.) How did tbis note-book come into your 
possession ? 

Heart. Miss Ellingham visited the prison in North Carolina 
where I was detained. She was going from hospital to hospital, 
from prison to prison, and from burial-place to burial-place, to 
find Colonel Kerchival West, if living — or some record of his 
death. 

Buck. Another Evangeline! Searching for her lover through 
the wilderness of this great war ! 

Heart. I was about to be exchanged at the time, and she re- 
quested me to bring this to her friends in Washington. She had 
not intended to carry it away with her. I was not exchanged, as 
we then expected, but I afterwards escaped from prison to General 
Sherman's Army. 

Buck. ^ will carry this long- delayed message to the widowed 
young mother. \^E.vit R. 

Jen. I remember so well, when poor Lieutenant Haverill 
took out the note-book and asked Gertrude to write for him. He 
— he brought me a message at the same time. {Their eyes meet. 
He puts up his glasses. She turns away, tonehing her eyes.) 

Heart. I — I remember the circumstances you probably allude 
to; that is — when he left my side — I — I gave him my — I mean 
your — lace handkerchief. 

Jen. It is sacred to me! 

Heart. Y-e-s — I would say — is it? 

Jen. {Wiping her eyes.) It was stained with the life-blood of a 
hero! 

Heart. I must apologize to you for it's condition. I hadn't 
any chance to have it washed and ironed. 

Jen. {Looking around at him, suddenly; then, aside.) What 
could any girl do with a lover like that? {Turning up stage.) 

Heart. (Aside.) She seems to remember that incident so 
tenderly! My blood boils! 

Jen. Didn't you long to see you — your friends at home — when 
you were in prison, Captain ? 



SHENANDOAH. 55 

Heart. Yes— especially — I longed especially, Miss Buck- 
thorn, to see 

Jen. Yes — to see 

Heart. But there were lots of jolly fellows in the prison. 
(Jenny tKr7is awoi/.) 

Heart. We had a drataatic society, and a glee club, and an 
orchestra. I was one of the orchestra. I had a banjo with one 
string; I played one tune on it, that I used to play on the piano, 
with one finger. But, Miss Buckthorn, I am a prisoner again, 
to-night — your prisoner. 

Jen. {A.sid(.) At last ! 

Heart. I'll show you how that tune went. {Txriis to piano; 
sits.) 

Jen. (Aside.) Papa said I'd have to help him, but I don't see 
an opening. (Ilcart.Wft.^e plfri/.<< ])o.i't of an air icith one finger; 
strikes tiro or t/iree wrong notes.) 

Heart. There are two notes down there, somewhere, that I 
neyer could get right. The fellows in prison used to dance while 
I played — (Plai/ing.) — that is, the lame ones did ; those that 
wern't lame couldn't keep the time. 

Jen. You must have been in great danger. Captain, when you 
escaped from prison. 

Heart. Y-e-s. I was badly frightened several times. One 
night I came face to face, on the road, with a Confederate Officer. 
It was Captain Thornton. 

Jen. Oh! What did you do ? 

Heart. I killed him. ( Very qvietli/, and t-ying the tunc again 
at once. jE^/i^e?' Jannette, from l., in hall; she glances into the 
room and goes up the stairs.) I used to skip those two notes on the 
banjo. It's very nice for a soldier to come home from the war, 
and meet those — I mean the one particular person — that he — you 
see, when a soldier loves a woman, as — as 

Jen. (Aside.) As he loves me. (Approaches him.) 

HEAitT. As soldiers often do — (Plat/s; she turns aicay, petulant- 
ly; he plays the tnne through correctly.) That's it! 

Jen. (Aside.) I'm not going to be made love to by piece-meal, 
like this, any longer. (Aloud.) Captain Heartsease! Have you 
anything in particular to say to me? (He looks vp.) 

Heart. Y-e-s. (Rising.) 

Jen. Say it! You told my father, and all my friends, that 
you were in love with me. Whom are you going to tell next ? 

Heart. I enn in love with you. 

Jen. It was my turn. 

Heart. (Qoing near toher.) Do you love me? 

Jen. (Laying her head quietly on his breast.) I must take time 
to consider. 

Heart. (Quietly.) I assume that this means '' Yes." 

Jen. It isn't the way a girl says " No." 

Heart. My darling ! 

Jen. Why 1 His heart is beating as fast as mine is ! 

Heart. (Quietly.) 1 am frantic with joy. (He kisses her. 
She hides her face on his breast. Enter Mrs. Havekill, l. c, 



66 SHENANDOAH. 

down-stairs, followed hy Jannette. Mks. Haverill stops sud- 
denly, up i,. c. J ANNETTE Stands in the doorway. Heartsease 
inclines his head to her, quietly looking at her over JENtiY.) I am 
delighted to see you, after so long an absence; I trust that we 
shall meet more frequently hereafter. 

Jen. {Looking at him.) Eh? 

Heart. {Looking down at her.) I think, perhaps, it might be 
as well for us to repair to another apartment, and continue our 
interview, there ! 

Jen. {Dropping her head on his breast again.) This room is 
very comfortable. 

Mrs. H. Jenny, dear ! (Jenny steorts iip; looks from Mrs. H. 
to Heart.) 

Jen. Constance! I — 'Bout face! March! {Turns and goes 
out, R.) 

Mrs. H. I am glad to see you again, Captain, and happy as 
well as safe. 

Heart. Than you. Madam, I am happy. If you will excuse 
me, I will join — my father— in the smoking-room. (Mrs. h. in- 
clines her head, and Heart, walks out, R. ) 

Mrs. H. Jannette! You may ask General Haverill to come 
into this room. (A'.n^ Jan. , L. Mrs. H. walks down a., reading 
et note.) " I have hesitated to come to you personally, as I have 
hesitated to write to you. If I have been silent, it is because I 
could not bring my hand to write what was in my mind and in my 
heart. I do not know that I can trust my tongue to speak it, but 
I will come." 

[Enter Haverii.l, l. c.,from hall; he stops, up l. c] 

Haver. Constance! 

Mrs. H. My husband! May I call you husband? After all 
these months of separation, with your life in almost daily peril, 
and my life — what? Only a weary longing for one loving word — 
and you are silent. 

Haver. May I call you wife ? I do not wish to speak that 
word except with reverence. You have asked me to come to you. 
I am here. I will be plain, direct and brief. Where is the 
portrait of yourself, which I gave you, in Charleston, for my son ? 

Mrs. H. Your son is dead, sir; and my portrait lies upon his 
breast, in the grave. (Haver, takes the miniature from his pocket 
and holds it towards lier in. his extended hand. She starts back.) 
He gave it to you ? And you ask me where it is ? 

Haver. It might have lain in the grave of Kerchival West ! 

Mrs. H. Ah ! 

Haver. Not in my son's. I found it upon his breast. {8Jie 
turns front, dazed.) Well! lam listening! It was not I that 
sought this interview, madam; and if you prefer to remain 
silent, I will go. You know, now, why I have been silent so 
long. 

Mrs. H. My only witnesses to the truth are both dead. I 
shall remain silent. {Turning totcards him.) We stand before 
each other, living, but not so happy as they. We are parted, 



1 



SHENANDOAH. 57 

forever. Even if you should accept my unsupported word — if I 
could so far forget my pride as to give it to you — suspicion would 
still hang between us. I remain silent. (Haverill looks at her, 
ciiriicxtU/^ for <( moiitciif, then oppronc/iis Iter.) 

H.WKR. I cannot look into your eyes and not see truth and 
loyalty there. Constance ! 

Mrs. H. No, John ! {Checking him.) I will not accept your 
blind faith ! {Muriiir/, L.) 

Haver. {Lnokiny doicn at the picture in //w hand.) My faitk 
is blind; blind as my love! I do not wish to see! {Enter 
Edith, r. She utops; looks at Haverill. He raises his head 
and looks at her.) 

Edith. This is General Haverill '? {Dropping her eyes.) lam 
Edith, sir. 

Haver. {Gently.) My son's wife. {Kis.^es her forehead.) 
You shall take the place he once filled in my heart. His crime 
and his disgrace are buried in a distant grave. 

Edith. And you have not forgiven him, even yet? 

Mrs H. Is there no atonement for poor Frank's sin — not 
even his death ? Can you only bury the wrong and forget the 
good '>. 

Haver. The good ? 

Mrs. H. Your own words to the Government, as his com- 
mander ! 

Haver. What do you mean ? 

Mrs. H. "The victory of Cedar Creek would have been im- 
possible without the sacrifice of this young Officer." 

H.\^VER. My own words, yes — but 

Edith. "His name must take its place, forever, in the roll 
of names which his countrymen honor." 

Haver. Lieutenant Bedlon ! 

Mks. H. Haverill ! You did not know? 

Haver. My — son! 

Edith. You did not receive mother's letter? — after his death? 

Havkr. My son! {Sinking upim chair or ottoman.) I left 
him alone in his grave, unknown; but my tears fell for him then, 
as they do now. He died before I reached him. 

Edith. Father! {Laying Iter hand gently on his shoulder.) 
You shall see Frank's face again. His little son is lying asleep 
upstairs; and when he wakes up, Frank's own eyes will look into 
yours. 

Haver. My daughter! 

Edith. I have just received his last message. I will read it to 
you. [Xi de-hook. Reads.) "Tell our little son how his father 
died, not how he lived. And tell her who filled my own mother's 
place so lovingly." {She looks at Mrs. Haverill, moves to her and 
hides Iter face in her bosom.) My mother! 

Mrs. H. Edith — my child! Frank loved us both. 

Edith. {Reading.) " Father's portrait of her, which she gave 
to me in Charleston — {Haverill starts.)—\xe\^Gdi me to be a better 
man " 

Haver. {Rising to his feet.) Constance! 



58 SHENANDOAH. 

Edith. {Beading.) "It was taken from me in Riclimond, and 
it is in the possession of Captain Edward Thornton." 

Haver. One moment! Stop! Let me think! (ExiWii loolcs at 
Mm; retires up i,. c.) Thornton was a prisoner — and to Kerchival 
West. A despatch had been found upon him — he was searched! 
{He moves to Jier (iitd takes botJi her lietnds in his own, buiring his 
head over tliem.) My head is bowed in shame. 

Mrs. H. Speak tome, John, as you used to speak! Tell me 
you still love me! 

Haver. The — the words will come — but they are — choking me 
— now. {Presses her hand to his lips.) 

Mrs. H. We will think no more of the past, except of what 
was bright in it. Frank's memory, and our own love, will be 
with us always. 

[Enter Buckthorn, Vi.,foUoioed by Heartsease.] 

Buck. Haverill! You are back from the war, too. It begins 
to look like peace in earnest. 

Haver. Yes. Peace and home. {Shaking hands vith him, c. 
Mrs. H. joins Edith.) 

[Enter Barket, r.] 

Barket. Gineral! (Buck, moves to him. Haver, joths Mrs. 
H. and Edith. Barket speaks apart, twisting one side of his 
face.) I kissed her! 

Buck. Have you sent for a surgeon ? 

Barket. I felt as if the inimy had surprised us agin, and 
Sheridan was sixty miles away. 

Haver. This is old Sergeant Barket. (Bar. sedates.) You 
were the last man of us all that saw Colonel West. 

Barket. Just afther the battle of Sayder Creek began — 
whin Colonel Wist rode to the front to mate his retrating rigi- 
ment — the byes formed in line, at sight of him, to raysist the 
victorious inimy. It was just at the brow of a hill — about there, 
sur — {Pointing with Ids cane.) and — here! — {He takes tray from 
table and sets it on the carpet, down r. c. Letys the slices of bread 
in a row.) That be the rigiment {All interested. Madeline 
and Ellingham enter, l , and look on. Barket arranges the 
two cups and saucers in a row.) That be the inimy 's batthery, 
sur. {Enter Margery, r. She goes to the table, then looks around, 
sheirply, at Barket. ) 

Old Marg. Ye ould Hibernian dhrone ! What are yez doin' 
wid the china on the floor? You'll break it all! 

Buck. Ah — Margery ! Barket is telling us where he last saw 
Colonel Kerchival West. 

Old Marg. The young Colonel ! The taycups and saucers 
he's the inimy's batthery"? Yez may smash 'em, if ye loike ! 

Buck. Go on, Bakket. (Jen. and Heartsease hare entered; 
eis Bar. proceeds, the lohole party leevn forward , intensely interested. 
Gert. enters in hall, looks in, beckons out l. Kerchival follows. 
They move to C, vj) stage, back of the rest and unseen, listening.) 

Barket. Just as the rigiment was rayformed in line, and 
dolonel Wist was out in front — widout any coat or hat, and wid 



SHENANDOAH. 59 

y a shtick in his hand — we heard cheers in the rear. Gineral 
eridan was coming ! One word to the men — and we swept 
!r the batthery like a whirlwind ! {Slasftixg Ms cane through 

cups uhd saur( r.s.) 
^LD Marg. Hoo — roo! 
Market. The attack on the lift plank was checked. But when 

shtopped to take breath, Colonel Wist wasn't wid us. (Qert. 
•ns lovingly to Kerchival. lie places Ms arm about her.) 
aven knows where he is now. Afther the battle was over, poor 
ss Gertrude wint off by hersilf into the wilderness to find him. 
^ER. My wife! You saved my life, at last! (Embracing hi r.) 
Market. They'll niver come together agin in this world. I 
V Miss Gertrude, myself, ride away into the woods and disap- 
ir behind a school-house on the battle-field, over there. 
jiERT. No, Barket — (All start and look.) — it was the little 
urch; we were married there this morning! 

Curtain. 



7 



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